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Tom McInnes 



IN AMBER LANDS 

POEMS 
By Tom Mclnnes 

y. 

American Edition 




BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 

NEW YORK AND BALTIMORE 

835 Broadway 1722 N. Calvert 



t^ '"^^ 



5 



AV 



Copyright, 1910, 

By 
TOM McINNES. 



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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Way of Beauty 7 

An Inkling g 

Lonesome Bar g 

In Errantry 29 

The Damozel of Doom 30 

The Rhyme of Jacques Valbeau 43 

The Gardens of Tao 63 

October 73 

The Veteran 74 

Coquitlam 75 

That Other One 76 

Hard Times No More 79 

Mother 81 

The Dream of the Deep 83 

The Seer 86 

The Butterfly 87 

Nirvana 91 

Illumined 92 

The Clue 97 

Edgar Allan Poe 98 

Idlewild 99 

The Jewel That Came 102 

Nocturne 103 

The Wanton Yacht .106 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Farewell io8 

The Arbor Arabesque no 

The Wrong Way ii6 

On Beacon Hill 121 

O Canada 130 

The Chilcoot Pass 132 

Cactus 140 

To Walt Whitman 147 

Lone Wolf Lament 151 

Chinatown Chant 154 

Red Laughter 157 

The Moonlit Wheat 161 

Fey 164 

In Amber Lands 169 

Yolana I75 

Underground . . . , , 178 

Jill 186 

Broken Days 191 

Content 197 

The Tomb 198 

The Last Song ,,....... I99 



In Amber Lands 



THE WAY OF BEAUTY. 

Who brings a thought of self to Beauty's shrine, 

Or jealous envy, by so much the less 

Shall feel within his soul her deep impress — 
Shall thrill at quaffing of her mystic wine. 
For Beauty hath no care for thine or mine. 

But wasteth wide in wanton loveliness ; 

And only thus, in self-forgetfulness, 
Shall any share with her the life divine. 

O happy he whose heart doth full respond 

To wandering Beauty's spell — wherever wrought! 
He hath a pleasure finer than all thought 

That instant as the touch of fairy wand 

Makes rich the World for him, whate'er his lot, — 

E'en tho' perchance a homeless vagabond. 



IN AMBER LANDS 



AN INKLING. 

Thro' my uncertain heart a moody tide 

Of mere emotion evermore doth steal, 

Fleckt with shining passions that appeal 
For solace that is evermore denied. 
But as the waters that elusive glide 

Thro' lonely forests doubtful yet reveal 

Some Ocean faith — so unafraid I feel 
To test with Death this heart unsatisfied. 

And from that tide thro' late haphazard years 

I've gather'd crystall'd words sometimes — like 

these : 
Things marvell'd out from many memories ; — 

Uncanny songs, wherein withal one hears 
Some overtone of happier melodies, 

Or rhythm falling from enchanted spheres. 



IN AMBER LANDS 9 



LONESOME BAR. 



Out of the North there rang a cry of Gold ! 
And all the spacious regions of the West, 
From rugged Caribou to where the crest 
Of Mexican Sierras mark the old 
Franciscan frontiers, caught the regal sound. 
And echo'd and re-echo'd it, till round 
The eager World the rumor of it roll'd : 
How Eldorado once again was found 
\\1iere stretch Canadian plains, forlorn and rude, 
Hard upon the iron-temper'd Arctic solitude. 

II. 

Then woke the vanguard of adventurers, 
Who fret their souls against the trammel'd ways 
And measured hours of these exacting days ; 
They heard the call — the pirate call that stirs 
To reach for easy gold in regions new ; 
That once from lazy Latin cities drew 
Pizarro and his pious plunderers, 
And, later, many a buccaneering crew 
To sail their curly ships across the foam 
And loot the Spanish galleons upon the run for home. 



10 IN AMBER LANDS 

III. 

So rake the annals of the knave Romance — 
The breed will not die out ! The fatal stars 
That sway the line of loose Irregulars 
Forevermore 'gainst hazard circumstance, 
Illumin'd thro those triple golden years 
A trail of splendid hopes and ghastly fears, 
Where only now Aurora gleams askance 
On the twinkling frosted bones of pioneers ; 
But it's ho ! for savage lands alight with spoil — 
For ventures grim and treasure-trove on a stark, un- 
heard-of soil! 

IV. 

And I went with the crowd who took the trail 
Over the icy Chilcoot ; side by side 
Who tugg'd and toil'd and topp'd the White Divide, 
Rafted it to Tagish, and set sail 
Down the rapid Yukon long before 
The main rush reach'd the mines. 'Twas no more 
To me than some new game of head-and-tail 
To gamble on ; but we drank deep, and swore, 
Around uproarious camp fires, that we'd find 
Our fortunes on the Klondike creek or leave our bones 
behind. 

V. 

But there was a hoodoo on me from the first ; 
Tho' everywhere I saw the yellow glance 
Of others' gold, I seem'd to stand no chance 



IN AMBER LANDS n 

Locating claims ; the hot, mosqiiito-curst 
And scurvy days went empty-handed by, 
No matter what I'd do or where I'd try; 
And every day in passing seem'd the worst, 
Until the last day faded from the sky, 
And the long, inexorable Night had come, — 
Inlocked with cold, and weird stars, and dumb as a 
corpse is dumb. 

VI. 

I work'd a while that Winter on a lay ; 
Sixty below, and sleeping in snow-bank'd tents, — 
Say, that was the hardpan of experience ! 
Just earning enough to live, and make a play 
On some infernal card that never won; 
Or easy by some dance-hall beauty done 
For all the dust I had — -you know the way : 
Snow-blind once, once frozen to the bone. 
While mushing with the mails between the creeks; 
Then typhoid laid me on my back delirious for weeks. 

VII. 

The river ice was breaking in the Spring 
When first I heard them tell of Lonesome Bar, — 
A haggard region hidden in the far 
Blank reaches of the North past reckoning. 
But the Sun was warm again, 'twas afternoon, 
And I was lounging in the Log Saloon, 
Ready to turn my hand to anything, 
When in two strangers came with a tale that soon 



12 IN AMBER LANDS 

Drew round the restless crowd, forever fond 
Of newer strikes, and farther fields, and the luck of 
things beyond. 

VIII. 

And well within an hour the rush began. 
For the strangers spoke of fortunes in a day; 
Careless show'd us nuggets that would weigh 
A pound or more, and told how every man 
At Lonesome Bar had sacks of them. Stampede i 
Already the sleds are out, and the huskies lead, 
Uneasy at their traces, in the van. 
And yelping 'gainst the time the packers need : 
Stampede ! Stampede ! All hangs on the moment's 
haste, — 
And it's every man and dog for himself on the endless 
Arctic waste! 

IX. 

But the fever shook me still in every bone ; 
Times I'd feel my legs bend under me, 
And every sinew loosen utterly ; 
And so I fell behind. Yet all alone 
I mush'd along for a month as best I could. 
And every mile I made was to the good, 
For the trail of those ahead in the bleak unknown 
I'd savvy enough to keep. At last I stood 
One day on a rocky bluff, outworn and weak, 
And saw beneath me Lonesome Bar, at the bend of 
Boulder Creek. 



IN AMBER LANDS 13 

X. 

Ah ! well I mind the evening that I came ! 

The month was June, nigh ripen'd to July, 

And the hour was midnight, yet the Northern sky 

From the horizontal Sun was all aflame, 

When with my empty pack I sauntered down 

The one long tented street that made the town, 

Hungry and sick — sick of a losing game, 

And broke for the price of a whiskey-straight to 

drown 
The ragged thoughts a-limping thro' my brain — 
Till I saw a crowd and went beside to hear what news 
again. 

XI. 

And there was a gaunt old ruffian, shaggy-brow'd, 
Who on a barrel, as far as I could tell. 
Ranted in drunken ecstasy of Hell ! 
They suited well his theme — that Klondike crowd : 
Men dogg'd by shadows of despair and crime, 
With women reckless of all aftertime; 
Miners, traders, villains unavow'd, 
And nondescript of every race and clime ; 
With the red police of Canada beside — 
For they keep tab on everything clear down to the 
Arctic tide. 

XII. 

But Hell ! What use had I for Hell that night? 
And sullen I turn'd away, when I felt a whack 
From a heavy open hand upon my back, 



14 IN AMBER LANDS 

And, turning quick, my doubtful eyes caught sight 
Of a college chum of mine — one Julien Roy — 
Whom I'd not seen for years. Girist ! 'twas joy 
To see the face of him again, and quite 
In his old way to hear him say, "Old boy ! 
You're down on your luck I see ! Come on up 

town, 
Where we can talk and have something to eat, and 

something to wash it down !" 

XIII. 

'Twas like the sudden shining of the Sun! 
The flowers forgotten of old fellowship 
Went all abloom again, — there seem'd to slip 
A weight of wasted years and deeds ill-done 
Plumb down and out of my life, with chance to try 
The upward trail again, where he and I 
Could venture yet the highest to be won, 
Could let the very thought of failure die, 
And weave into our lives, from ravell'd ways, 
That cord of gold we talk'd about in the far-off col- 
lege days. 

XIV. 

For Julien was a gentleman all through ; 
He stak'd me then, when I had not a cent, 
Braced me up and shared with me his tent, 
And help'd in every way a friend could do. 
As to the fortune that is ours to-day, 
I stumbled on it in the chancy way 



IN AMBER LANDS I5 

That all things come to me ; I cut in two 
The likeliest claim I found, ask'd Jule to stay, 
And work it with me, share and share alike, — 
And in a month at Lonesome Bar 'twas rank'd the 
richest strike. 

XV. 

One day I left him working on the claim, 
I had to buy supplies down at the Bar, 
When passing by the dance-hall Alcazar, 
Topmost on its board I read a name, 
"Beulah, the Singing Girl !" The lesser lights, 
The Dogans, with Obesity in tights, 
And the boneless Acrobat — same old game — 
'Twas not for them I stay'd, nor clownish sights, 
But I wanted to hear a song — a song to make 
The feel of younger days come back until my heart 
should ache. 

XVI. 

Something went wrong with me that night, I know ; 
And yet 'fore God I would not set it right 
For all the North and all its gold in sight! 
White she was all over, like the snow 
That on the glacier in the moonlight lies. 
And lissome as a panther when it spies 
Its quarry where the forest branches low; 
But the luring of her deep-illumin'd eyes, 
And voice voluptuous with all desire. 
And somewhat else beyond all that fair set my soul on 
fire. 



i6 IN AMBER LANDS 

XVII. 

For Beulah sang a ballad to me then, 
Of perilous tune, so put to velvet rime, 
*Twas sure the kind that sirens in old time 
Sang from the weedy rocks to sailor-men ; 
And all the while her eyes shone splendidly 
At something far too fine for us to see ; 
But oh ! at ending of the ballad, when 
Those eyes sank down to rest alone on me, 
Full well for one such glance of hers I knew 
Fd tip my hat to her command for all that a man 
may do. 

XVIII. 

And so enamor'd on the instant grown, 
I sprang to meet her when the song was done; 
She met me wondrous kind ; then one by one 
The others drew aside, while we, alone, 
Crush'd from the moments, in our eagerness, 
A wine of many years, as one would press 
Sudden the ripenM grapes. Ah ! we had known, 
In some strange way that I'm too old to guess, 
A dream of life between, I know not how. 
That link'd her alien soul to mine with a dream out- 
lasting vow ! 

XIX. 

You know how goes the custom of the Camp ; 
How swift the wooing where the pace is set 
To live all in the hour — and then forget ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 17 

The midnight moon shone pale, Hke an onyx lamp 
Hung in the amber twilight of the sky, 
When we went forth together, she and I, 
And open'd yellow wine, whose yellow stamp 
Won high approval from the rascals dry 
Who pledged us o'er and o'er, upon the chance 
To waste in regions barbarous that vintage of old 
France. 



XX. 

The first ones of the North still tell of it : 
That was the night the Lucky Swede made bold 
To bid for Beulah all her weight in gold ; 
And when, from mere caprice, my side she quit, 
And challenged him to make the offer good. 
With iron pans and a beam and a chunk of wood 
A rough-and-ready balance soon was fit. 
And the Swede brought up his gold where Beulah 

stood, 
And 'gainst her weight upon the other scale 
He piled his buckskin sacks, while I — saw red, but 

watch'd the sale. 



XXI. 

In all my life I never felt so broke; 
But when the balance quiver'd evenly. 
She threw a kiss to him — and came to me, 
And my heart went all a-tremble as she spoke : 
**01e, you're a sport all right — for a Swede ! 



i8 IN AMBER LANDS 

But I think this Sourdough here's the man I need ; 
I only play'd to leave him for a joke; 
Let's call it off — and the drinks on me ! Agreed ?" 
Since then for me there's been no other girl — 
And all the boys shook hands on it, and things began 
to whirl. 



XXII. 

And it's something worth, even in memory, 
To linger thro' those ample hours again. 
It may not be the same with other men, 
But clear on the topmost waves of revelry 
The soul of me was lifted cool and clean ; 
Silent I felt the surge of what had been : 
Careless I weigh'd the evil yet to be: — 
Then Beulah's arms closed warm and white be- 
tween, 
And I let go of all in her embrace, 
And for a time escaped from Time and the latitudes 
of Space. 

XXIII. 

And the last was a sense of sound — a tremulo. 
So vagrant, sweet and low, 'twas like the thin, 
Continual twinkling tune of a mandolin 
To mellow-toned guitars in Mexico, 
Where lovers seek the plaza by the sea ; 
And the foaming breakers phosphorescently 
Come rolling in beneath the moon as tho' 
The influence of her yellow witchery 



IN AMBER LANDS 19 

Into the purple darkness off the Main 
Had sunken, sunken, drunken down Uke limitless 
champagne. 

XXIV. 

Slowly I woke. The last of the stars had fled : 
Only beside me Beulah murmur'd *'Stay !" 
And kiss'd me, sleepy-eyed. But early day 
Chills all of that somehow ; I turned instead, 
Thinking to leave her dreaming, I confess; 
Yet even in that gray light her loveliness, 
And certain drowsy dulcet words she said, 
Charm'd my heart to hers in a last caress — 
Chained if you like, and clinch'd with a parting 
smile — 
Yes — but what have you found in the round of the 
world so well worth while? 



XXV. 

Far up a valley, where the summer-rills 
Long ages thro' the glacial-drift have roll'd, 
I work'd in gravel studded thick with gold 
For days and days on the double-shift that kills. 
Yet oft, to hear the echoes ring and stir 
That vacant valley like a dulcimer, 
I flung her name against the naked hills, 
And crimson'd all the air with thoughts of her ; 
While 'mong the fair returning stars I'd see 
Pale phantoms of her chill, sweet face receding end- 
lessly, 



20 IN AMBER LANDS 

XXVI. 

Till I could stand the pull of it no more ; 
I, who as a fool knew every phase 
Of woman's lighter love, and love's light ways, 
Had felt no passion like to this before. 
As the lost drunkard's longing at its worst, 
And keen as the craving of the opium-curst, 
Was the elemental lust that overbore 
My very body till it gasp'd athirst, 
As one in some fierce desert dying dreams 
Of snowy peaks and valleys green with unavailing 
streams. 

XXVII. 

And JuHen, good old Julien, knowing all, 

Pretended not to know, but said he guess'd 

That I had overwork'd myself, and best 

Lay off a spell in town. Then I let fall 

My useless tools, and wash'd and got in trim 

For the long ten miles ahead. The trail was slim, 

And crawl'd at times 'gainst some sheer granite 

wall, 
Or lost itself 'mong boulders huge and grim ; 
But dreaming of her I pick'd a buoyant way. 
Descending easy to the Bar at ending of the day. 

XXVIII. 

That region was abandon'd years ago, 
And Lonesome Bar is to the wild again, 
Yet still it haunts me as I saw it then : — 



IN AMBER LANDS 21 

Far up in the banner'd West a crimson glow. 
And a silver crescent on its edge aslant, 
With jewell'd Venus sinking jubilant 
Thro' opal spaces of the vault below; 
Then goblin rocks and waterfalls and scant 
Green tamarac around the white marquee 
Where Beulah lodg'd — and there was ending of the 
trail for me. 

XXIX. 

Ending of the trail — for she was there! 
Sylph-like I saw her figure thro' the haze 
Made of the twilight and the camp-fire blaze ; 
And the piney odors passing thro' the air 
So pure I took for random kisses blown 
From her red mouth to mine, while yet unknown 
My whereabouts ; then wholly unaware 
I stole upon her standing there alone, 
And sudden she was mine without appeal, 
And lip to lip within my arms made all my fancies 
real. 

XXX. 

Shall I forget the words she said to me? 
Nay, I believ'd them — I believe them yet! 
She told me how she dream'd that we had met 
Where dreams are true ; and then how endlessly, 
Like some lost dove, she roamed this evil world 
Seeking for me ; how now her wings were furl'd, 
And I should bide with her, till I should see 



^2 IN AMBER LANDS 

This whitest secret in her soul impearl'd ; 
And her songs were all for me, I heard her say, — 
For me, for me and only me, forever and a day ! 

XXXI. 

Then pass'd the last good hours I ever knew; 
I lit my pipe, sat on a log, and look'd 
At her and her neat hands that neatly cook'd 
A supper hot and homely — just for two; 
And out in God's clean air, beside the fire, 
Where comrade ways but strengthen'd Love's de- 
sire, 
We made it up to marry then for true, 
And I thought how all my life I'd never tire 
Of loving her, her eyes, her voice, her form, 
Her charm of something unreveal'd forever young 
and warm. 

XXXII. 

But at last, as night drew on, she rose and said : 
"I'd talk with you till dawn, dear, if talk 
Could hold my audience or charm the clock. 
But I mustn't miss my turn, so come ahead !'* 
Down at the theatre the crowd was thin, 
Perhaps two score, no more, as we went in; 
But the manager was hanging out his red 
Big-letter'd signal lantern to begin, 
When from the street, crescendo, came a roar, 
Nearer and still nearer, till it reach'd the dance-hall 
door. 



IN AMBER LANDS 23 

XXXIII. 

Beulah stood ready on the stage, and the black 

Professor at the crack'd piano play'd 

His overture twice through, but no one stay'd, 

So I joined in where all were crowding back 

To where the row was on. ''Speech, Mac, speech !" 

They cried, as up the aisle they rush'd to reach 

Where Beulah stood, confused. "It's Hellfire 

Mac !" 
I whisper'd her, "and he's drunk and wants to 

preach !" 
"What ! why, sure — whoever he is — come, dear, 
That lets me off for a while, you know; come on — 

come on in here! 



XXXIV. 

And laughing softly she drew me aside 
Into a rough alcove, her dressing room, 
Curtain'd from the stage, and half in gloom, 
When at a sound her eyes 'gan staring wide. 
And she clutch'd my arm. 'Twas not the pious 

drone. 
But a fearsome something in the undertone 
Of the ruin'd Calvinist, whose soul espied 
Damnation toppling from the great White Throne 
Upon the woeful habiters of Earth, 
That somehow check'd the crowd that night, and 
still'd its shallow mirth. 



24 IN AMBER LANDS 

XXXV. 

And Beulah, more than all like one enthraU'd, 

Smother'd a moan, and dumbly motioning 

For me to follow, crept into the wing 

Close up to him. Bearded, gray and bald, 

With eyes sunk gleaming under beetling shag, 

And face rough-chisel'd like a granite crag, 

He tower'd above us all ; but so appall'd 

He seem'd that scarce his drunken tongue could 

drag 
Meet words to match his ghastly fantasies, 
Yet I remember some in Gaelic accents drawn like 

these : 

XXXVI. 

"Last night, my friens, she dreampt she wass a 

snake, 
Prodigious as wass nefer seen before : 
Ha, ta Mac an Diaoul! — ta Beishta-Mor! 
For when she moved she made ta mountains quake, 
And all ta waters of ta oceans roll 
In frightnet waves from Pole to frozen Pole; 
While efermore her starving body'd ache 
So bitterly ta pain she couldna thole, 
But twistit round and round, till she was curl'd 
In endless coils of blastit flesh about ta blastit World. 

xxxvii. 

"For in those days she wass ta only thing; 
There wass no man nor woman left at all ; 



IN AMBER LANDS 25 

No fish to swim, no beast to run or crawl, 
No bird nor butterfly to spread its wing; 
Around ta World herself wass all alone, 
For all that efer lived to her had grown ; 
And Winter, that would nefermore be Spring, 
Now glowert silent ofer efery zone : 
Then liftit she her head into ta sky 
To spit ta last great blasphemy into God's face — and' 
die. 

XXXVITI. 

"But oh ! ta silence of ta endless Sky — 
And oh! ta blackness of ta endless Night! 
Where all ta stars can nefer make it light — 
Where in ta empty, like a Defil's eye, 
Ta eerie Sun, grown small and smooth and cold. 
Stared down upon her doom ordain'd of old ! 
And she torment — and she couldna tell for why — ' 
With agonies in every quaking fold, 
Where only flowit poison streams for blood : 
And still she hiss'd and spit and curst — and still there 
wass no God ! 

XXXIX. 

"But at ta last she felt ta power to make 

Ta great escape, and finish all her hurt; 

Ta Spirit moved her, and her body girt 

Its straining coils until ta World she brake 

To splinter'd rocks that ground and crash'd and 

roar'd, 
While all ta inner fires reek'd up and pour*d 



26 IN AMBER LANDS 

In fury round ta universal Snake — 
Consuming in ta vengeance of ta Lord !'* 
We never heard the meaning of his dream, 
For sudden thro' the building rang a wild hysteric 
scream. 

XL. 

And Beulah springing frenzied to the stage, 
And the old man halting face to face with her, 
Too swift and strange for any theatre 
Follow'd a scene whose measure none could gauge, 
Only we felt its mad reality. 

''That man's my father — keep him back from me !" 
I heard her cry, while horror blent with rage 
Upon the other's face. "A fient I see ! 
A damnit fient of Hell, who stole my name ! 
Beulah, ta harlot, come again to cross my face with 
shame !" 

XLI. 

I saw the old man grip and throttle her; 
I saw her choking, and her white hand dart 
Down to the knife that flashed — and found his 

heart ! 
I saw him reel and fall — I saw the blur 
Of blood that gush'd upon her heaving breast 
Out of his own! Ah, God, how quick the rest! 
Ere I or any one of us could stir, 
Full to the hilt that fatal knife she press'd 
Into her side, that ran and reek'd with red, 
As she fell dead upon the stage where lay her father 
dead. 



IN AMBER LANDS 2y 

XLII. 

Moments there are that gleam beyond all Time ! 
Blown from enormous Years ! O name that seems 
To hearken back thro' vague primeval dreams! 
O maid remember'd from the young, sublime, 
Untrammel'd days when God foregathered us ! 
My woman still — grown strangely perilous ! 
All in a moment marr'd with scarlet crime, 
And lost before mine e3es incredulous ! 
My woman still — tho' I go babbling, dazed 
At thought of her and her father damn'd, and a Hell 
of things gone crazed ! 

XLIII. 

How since that hour again and yet again 
I've play'd the fool with Death ! Go let him take 
What shape he please, I'll meet wide awake, 
And keep a date with him — no matter when ! 
Mad, I tell you — mad, I've laughed to hear 
In Wintertime the mad gray-wolves draw near 
And circle round me, all unarm'd — and then, 
Snapping their teeth, slink back and howl with fear : 
God knows of what ! So queer it seem'd, almost 
I think they saw beside me there old Hellfire's drunken 
ghost ! 

XLIV. 

Lonesome Bar ! Too far — too far and old 
The hollow sound of it now comes to me 
To quicken this sick heart that crazily 



28 IN AMBER LANDS 

Goes lurching on to everlasting cold ! 
Fill up my glass ! What game have I to play- 
But drink into this drear, indifferent day 
Some brief delirium, wherein to hold 
A phantom floating goldenly away 
Beyond the zenith of my soul, as bright 
Aurora with her dreamlight haunts the hopeless Arctic 
night ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 29 



IN ERRANTRY. 

Because I'm drunken with unknown nectars, 
From ways made over-strait I turn; in sooth 
My heart is only half inclin'd to truth 

Of learned scrolls and saintly calendars : 

Bald Science misses, and Religion mars 

What I have found, tho' blundering and uncouth, 
For I was wronged with Wonder in my youth, 

And dazed with visions of forbidden Stars. 

I was a minstrel boy in errantry 

Roving the mossy ways of old Romance 
In chase of Beauty, whose elusive glance, 

Thro' hapless ventures lured me brokenly : 
But now of her I've had such great joyance 

That this dour World shall never sober me. 



30 IN AMBER LANDS 



THE DAMOZEL OF DOOM. 
Part I. 



Like as a dream it came to me 

In the lapse of a lonely year; 
In the shade of night I saw the shade 

Of a shrouded maid appear ; 
And drawing nigh it leaned o'er me, 

And whisper'd in my ear : 

II. 

"Cold— cold! 
I come from the ghastly cold! 
Where the dead are ever dying 

Alone in the ghastly cold !" 

III. 

And then, as if an agony 

Constrain'd that gruesome haze, 
Its words come forth in hollow sighs. 

The while its eyes did blaze 
Pale lightnings to my own, now fix'd 

In helpless dire amaze : 



IN AMBER LANDS 31 

IV. 

''I am a starveling out of Hell, 

A wraith of the restless dead, 
And whence the damn'd lie damn'd the most 

My riven ghost hath fled 
For lust of the radiant life in thee, 

And the fume of thy heart so red! 

V. 

"I lust for thy blood and the life of thy blood 

But I love thy soul as well, 
For tlie flame of it lit my own anew, 

This thing is true I tell ; 
And the beating of thy heart it was 

That loos'd me out of Hell. 

vr. 

*'For out of the sleep I cannot sleep 

Thy soul was rous'd again ; 
And thy body was wrought to the same fair mould 

As when of old 'twas lain 
Within the dust away from me — 

The body that I had slain. 

VII. 

''O black the night that swallow'd me 

When out of the World I fell ! 
Out of the World, and deep entomb'd, 

I found me doom'd to dwell 
Where Time is still and Horror stares 

On each — immovable. 



32 IN AMBER LANDS 

VIII. 

"Cold— cold ! 
Alone in the ghastly cold ! 
Where the dead are ever dying 

Alone in the ghastly cold ! 

IX. 

"Nay, listen ! I heard like far-off sounds 
Sway down thro' the lees of crime; 

And golden was their echoing, 
They seem'd to ring a chime 

Or words I said — of love I felt — 
Long since — in the other time. 

X. 

"And echoing they took a shape, 

And circled round and round 
As airy, elemental elves. 

Then joined themselves and wound 
In wreathing ether over me, 

And with a crystal sound 

XI. 

"The circle touch'd complete and flash'd 

And vanish'd suddenly ; 
And Time began again — I found 

Myself unbound and free — 
Free of the silent Horror there 

That stared and stared at me. 



IN AMBER LANDS 33 

XII. 

"And I was in the outer night, 

And I sought and found thee here; 
I saw thy body from afar 

As a Hving star appear, 
And fain to drink and slumber in 

Its crimson atmosphere — " 

XIII. 

No other word came audible, 

The shade 'gan withering, 
As to my cold and shuddering side 

It vainly tried to cling; 
Then drifted slow away from me, 

A wasting, wistful thing. 

XIV. 

Until in the eerie light at last 

I saw it fade and seem 
To sink as it were thro' an ancient grave, 

And sinking it gave a scream ; 
And I awoke and tried to think 

'Twas but a passing dream. 

XV. 

Cold— cold ! 
And are the dead so cold? 
And are they ever dying 

Alone in the ghastly cold? 



34 IN AMBER LANDS 



Part II. 

I. 

That dream came not again to me, 

Nor any dream at all ; 
But well I knew, as the days went past, 

There held me fast in thrall 
A something of that shrouded thing 

That wrapped me like a pall. 

II. 

An aura drear that sever'd me 
From men and the ways of men; 

As some great evil I had done 
My friends did shun me then; 

I felt accurst, and kept apart, 
And sought them not again. 

III. 

But O how chill the World did grow ! 

And the Sun, as a thing unreal, 
Did glare and glare thro' the vacant day, 

And never a ray I'd feel 
To warm my blood, the light fell thin 

And gray as spectral steel. 



IV. 

A pale disease took hold on me. 
And when the night would come 



IN AMBER LANDS 35 



I had no rest, but sleepless lay 
As stark as clay, and numb; 

And could not stir till dawn would break 
Nor gasp, for I was dumb. 



V. 

And yet were times all faintly tinged 
With a glimmering ecstasy ; 

Moments that linger'd in their flight, 
Trailing a light to me 

Elusive and wan as the phosphor foam 
That floats on the midnight sea. 



VI. 

And out of my stricken body then 
My soul would seem to creep. 

And over a sheer unfathom'd brink 
Of silence sink asleep, 

Beyond the shadow and sound of dreams, 
And deeper than Earth is deep. 



VII. 

Yet ever from those slumber spells, 
That seem'd like years, I'd start 

Sudden awake, bewilder'd by 
A presence nigh my heart, 

As if a soul had stirr'd in me 
That of me was no part. 



36 IN AMBER LANDS 

VIII. 

And so three seasons pass'd away, 

And the early Summer came; 
And still that weird fantasy 

Enshrouded me the same; 
But now it seem'd as luminous 

With some alchemic flame. 

IX. 

At length in a garden wide and old, 

A garden all my own, 
One afternoon I lay at ease 

Under the trees alone, 
While the fragrant day fell off in the West 

Like a Titan rose o'erblown. 

X. 

And lying there I dream'd once more, 
And it seemed that a scarlet bird 

Flew out of my heart with a joyous cry, 
To the topmost sky, and I heard 

Her song come echoing down to me. 
Yearning word on word: 



XI. 



"Slow — slow ! 
O moments — O ages slow? 
But love shall be my own again — 

Be it moments or ages slow !'* 



IN AMBER LANDS 37 



Part III. 



I waken'd in the twilight with 

A fever at my brain ; 
All my veins were running fire 

With blind desire and pain 
Of something that three seasons long 

Within my heart had lain. 



II. 

So cruel that first I heeded not 

A faint, alluring tune, 
Trilling round me everywhere 

In the jewell'd air of June, 
As far and wide o'er the darkling sky 

The crystal stars were strewn. 



III. 

Till over the rim of the World uprose 

The slow round Moon, 
And a voice from the inner garden came 

That breath'd my name, and soon 
Floated full out on the waving air 

Trolling a golden croon : 



38 IN AMBER LANDS 

IV. 

"Low — low ! 
The Moon lies low ! 
O Love ! my Love — come love me 

While the Moon lies low !" 

V. 

To the inner garden fast I sped 
Till I came to the inmost tree; 

the peace of a thousand years I'd give 
Again to live and see 

The pallid maid of the white, white arms 
Who there awaited me ! 

VI. 

But I have not the words to tell 

The marvel of that tryst ; 
Yet 'twas no phantom I did woo — 

A virgin true I kiss'd. 
With lips full red, and eyes agloom 

With peerless amethyst, 

VII. 

And body lined and shapen to 
The last of love's delight; 

1 heard her whisper : "I am thine, 
And thou art mine, to-night !" 

And she loos'd the silver zone that bound 
Her garments blue and white. 



IN AMBER LANDS 39 



VIII. 



"Low — low ! 
The Moon lies low! 
And my love is mine to love me 

While the Moon lies low!" 



Part IV. 



'*0 my beautiful — my bright! 
Sweetheart in the cool dim night! 
Calling thro' the starlit silence 
Low my name ! 



II. 



"With that sound there comes to me 
A feeling lit with memory 

Of regions lost and times o'erlaid, 
And love forgot. 



III. 



"Take me, O dream-laden bride! 
To the rapture of thy side, 
In this bower of unrevealing 
Velvet gloom. 



40 IN AMBER LANDS 

IV. 

"Long, my beautiful, I've waited 
For this charmed night — this fated 
Hour that yields thee up to me 
From years unknown. 

V. 

"Now shall be unveil'd to me 
All thy maiden symmetry, 

Seen like naked moonlit marble. 
Pure and pale. 

VI. 

"Till no more thou canst reveal me 
Of thy beauty, and I feel thee 

As a flower whose touch instilleth 
Chill delight. 

VII. 

"My Sultana! in thine eyes 
Let me gaze, where passion lies 

Slumbering still within their sultry- 
Purple deep ! 

vm. 

"Till within my arms at last 
In love's embrace I hold thee fast^ 
Till beneath my own I feel 
Thy heaving heart ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 41 



IX. 



**While I gather — while I crush — 
All the fruits of love — the lush 
Delirium that dwelleth 'tween 
The lips of pain. 



X. 

'"O long — O last supreme caress ! 
O ultimate deliciousness ! 
O slowly sinking, satiate. 
Erotic swoon! 

XI. 

"Swoon, my beautiful — my bright ! 
Dream far down in the violet night! 
Down — far down, where reigns the dim 
Lethean sleep!" 



Part V. 



My heart is a dry and wither'd thing; 

And I that am young am old 
With brooding in the silentless 

On that caress and fold 
Of white, white arms in the Summer night; 

But the end is still untold. 



42 IN AMBER LANDS 

II. 

Nor shall be told — for the end is not ! 

My soul, 'tween hopes and fears, 
For the pallid maid awaits and yearns, 

Her memory burns and sears : 
But I it was who let her pass 

To the peace of a thousand years. 



III. 



Slow — slow ! 
O moments — O ages slow! 
But love shall be my own again — 

Be it moments or ages slow ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 43 

THE RHYME OF JACQUES VALBEAU. 



One August afternoon I saw, 
Somewhere back of Ottawa, 

Among the oldest hills, 
A young and most alluring squaw, 
Togg'd in a buckskin petticoat, 

With buckskin fringe and frills: 
Catamount-claws were at her throat, 

Fixt on a catgut string. 
With copper beads and color'd quills, — 

O she was the dreamliest thing! 
Clean and cool as the dews that cling 
To the tiger-lilies on those hills 

Thro' the golden August dawns; 
For the rest — the sunlight gleam'd 
On breasts and arms and legs that seem'd 
Moulded brownly out of bronze : 
Shapely, slender, debonaire, 
From her coils of blue-black hair 
To her dainty moccasins : 
And I met her, for my sins, 
Somewhere back of Ottawa, 

Among the oldest hills. 



II. 



Long ago in the earlies 

A Frenchman lived in France ; 

Gaunt he was like an eagle, 



44 IN AMBER LANDS 

With an evil eagle glance : 

One eye was black and one was blue, 

And the black one look'd straight into you, 

While the blue one leer'd askance. 

Most sinfully in Paris. 
But it was wiser not to try 

To hinder him or harass, 
But quietly to pass him by, 

In the sinful streets of Paris ; 
For his arm was strong, and his sword was long. 

And when he made sword-plays, 
'Twas hard to look him in the eye, 

Because he look'd two ways ; 
The black one look'd straight into you, 
And the blue one where he'd pink you through, 
And that was a trick entirely new 

To people then in Paris. 
O he had small fears of the musketeers 

Or the macaroons of Paris ! 
And he had his time, and he made most free, 
And he lived in great ribalderie. 

In the sinful streets of Paris ; 
But at last those evil eyes in his head 
On whom they fell, or so 'tis said. 

Brought such annoy and harass, 
That when King Louis heard of it, 

He order'd him from Paris : 
Yes; not for the evil life he led, 

Nor the ways that he walk'd unfit. 
But for those two evil eyes in his head. 
They press'd him out of Paris. 



IN AMBER LANDS 45 



III. 



'Twas long ago in the earlles, 

And he thought to take a chance 

For fortune in the fur trade, 

So he sail'd away from France, 

In a crooked ship, with a crooked deck, 

That sprang a leak and went to wreck 

Five hundred miles from our Quebec, 

At the mouth of our Saint Lawrence, 
How then he fared I do not know, 
'Twas long ago, but this is so, 
That up the river, paddling slow. 
Half starv'd, at length he reach'd Quebec, 
And told his tale of dismal wreck, — 
His name was Jacques Valbeau. 
Now in those days in our Quebec 

Nigh all the folk were pious, 
And when they saw his one black eye. 

With the blue one on the bias. 
They cross'd themselves, and wish'd the rogue 

Had drow^n'd 'tween there and Paris. 
Yet money is made in the fur trade. 

When others hunt the fur, 
And some thought best that they should test 

This lank adventurer ; 
And so they offer'd to subscribe 
Enough to outfit and equip 
Jacques Valbeau for a hunting trip 

With some of the Huroi»i tribe. 



46 IN AMBER LANDS 

Thus did he go, this Jacques Valbeau, 

And for many days he studied the ways 

And the words of the Huron tribe. 



IV. 

Yes ; money is made in the fur trade 

When others hunt the fur, 
But brandy to the Indians 

If you want the best of fur, 
And everything else they have to show ; 
'Tis a law you know, and Jacques Valbeau 

Was its discoverer. 
So for many days he studied the ways 

And words of every tribe. 
Of money had he not a sou markee, 

But he carried a bottled bribe, 
And the Moon turn'd round, and he prosper'd some, 

With beaver skins and such, 
That he got for his brandy, and then for rum, 

And the gin of the heretic Dutch. 
But me it would take too long to describe 
How things went bad in every tribe 

Which the Church had held in check; 
But sure there was trouble plenty too much 

In our dear old Quebec. 
So the Bishop and the Governor, 

Who sometimes did agree. 
They met and talk'd the matter o'er, 

And settled finally 
That they would have this Jacques Valbeau 



IN AMBER LANDS 47 

And hang him by the neck 
Up on the windy citadel 

Of our dear old Quebec. 
But so it is, and so it is, 

And one can never tell, 
For in the Garden Ursuline 
That evil-eyed Valbeau had seen 
An Indian girl turned seventeen, 

A sweet young sauvagesse, 
Left with the Lady Prioress 
To learn to sew, and cook nice food, 
And tell her beads, and to confess. 

And otherwise be good. 
But Jacques Valbeau, that Jacques Valbeau^ 

He signall'd her so well 
In forest ways she understood. 

That just at vesper bell 
Of that same evening long ago 
She slipt away into the wood : — 

O wicked Jacques Valbeau ! 



V. 

So Jacques took to the wilderness. 

The first coureur-de-bois. 
And with him went that Indian girl, 

Whose convent name was Lottila — 

With the accent on the aw. 
I have heard her other name, but now 

I will not try to tell it, 
Because I can't, and 'cause there are 



48 IN AMBER LANDS 

No letters that will spell it. 
But oh, 'twas the good, good time they had 

Thro' the woods in the summer weather ! 
Hunting and fishing and trading in furs, 

And they were so rich together, 
Until one night as they lay asleep, 
Where the moss was growing thick and deep, 

'Gainst the trunk of a fallen tree, 
The Iroquois Indians silently 

Began to creep and creep 
In a closing circle where they lay, 
Till scarce they were more than three yards away. 
Then a twig did snap with a warning crack ; 
Up sprang that valiant rover, Jacques, 
All in an instant wide awake. 
And three of those Iroquois heads did break 

Before they had him down. Alack ! 
They tied his hands behind his back 

And fixt him to a stake ; 
And his bottles of Jamaica rum 

They drank till they were drunk. 
And while the squaws began to plunk 
With rattly sticks on the big tum-tum 
(That's a sort of Indian drum). 
The braves did time and music make 

With yells and grunts and squawks. 
And danced around him at that stake. 
With painted cheek and horrible head. 
And pine-knot torches burning red, 

And ugly tomahawks ; 
And told him how his scalp they'd take, 



IN AMBER LANDS 49 



And otherwise keep him awake 
Until the blessed day should break, 

Then cut him into blocks, 
And finally his body bake, 
When sure that it no more could ache, 
And eat his heart when he was dead. 
Of these details, perhaps, I've said 

Too much — the subject shocks. 



VI. 



But so it is, and so it is, 

And one can never tell; 
For on Valbeau the flesh did sizz. 

And he began to yell, 
When the Devil, moving mightily 

Somewhere down in Hell, 
Did cause a terrible earthquake. 
And all of Canada did shake 
From Ottawa to Rimouski. 
(This happen'd in sixteen sixty- three. 
And it's all set out in history.) 
But Jacques Valbeau stood swarthily. 

And desperate at the stake, 
And called the Devil to his aid. 
While all the Indians, dismay'd, 
Took to their naked knees and pray'd. 
And the ground kept heaving heavily. 
Yes, all took to their knees and pray'd. 
But Lottila, the little squaw, 



50 IN AMBER LANDS 

Who, with no thought but her lover's life, 
Cut thro' his thongs with a scalping knife, 
While the ground kept heaving heavily. 
And then was that great bargain made 
As Jacques Valbeau stood swarthily; 
He call'd the Devil to his aid. 
And the Devil, moving mightily 

Somewhere down in Hell, 
Roar'd reply, so I am told, 
That Jacques Valbeau, the overbold, 

And Lottila as well, 
If they would do his will alway, 
Should laugh at Time and never grow old, 
And none should hinder them or check, 
Whether at work or whether at play, 
Free to come and free to go 
Thro' all the Province of Quebec 
And the borders of Ontario — 

Down to the Judgment Day ! 

VII. 

Then Jacques Valbeau and Lottila, 
So the Iroquois declare 
(And I have cause to think 'tis true), 
While others crouch'd all in despair, 
Follow'd a ball of fire that ran 
Down to the river near St. Anne, 

Till it stopt by a big canoe ; 
And Lottila she fainted there. 

And fell in that big canoe, 



IN AMBER LANDS 51 

And Jacques, half dead, he fell there, too. 
Then it rose of itself in the spectral air, 

And far out of sight it flew. 
How long it was they never knew, 
It may have been days, but Jacques came to, 
And found they were still in the big canoe. 
Hovering over a landscape fair, 

Late in the afternoon. 
And it floated aimless, here and there, 
But Jacques Valbeau had ready wit. 
And he sat and considered the matter a bit, 

Till with a paddle soon 
He caught the trick of sailing it, 
Slowly at first and cautiously. 
But at last he sail'd as joyously 

As any bird on the wing; 
While Lottila woke up to sing 

To the end of the afternoon. 
Then a worn-down mountain they did see. 

From whose green covering 
The granite ribs sagg'd outwardly ; 
It seem'd some monstrous ancient thing 

Crouching wearily. 
But on its summit they did light, 
And make their camp there for the night; 
In later days, upon that site, 

But lower down the hill, 
Jacques built a cabin large and strong, 
And near to it a whiskey still 

To make the whiskey-blanc. 
And more I'd like to tell to you 



52 IN AMBER LANDS 

Of how he did the Devil's will 

In that bewitch'd canoe, 
But the tale of it would be too long, 

O much too long, indeed ! 
Yet in parish records you may read 
How, with drunken shanty crew, 
They saw him pass in that canoe, 
Piercing the clouds with awful speed, — 

Let that be a lesson to you ! 

VIII. 

So thus that August afternoon. 

Among those haunted hills, 
I met that young bedevilled squaw. 
The luring, lissome Lottila, 

Minding her whiskey stills. 
And truly I was glad I met her, 
Yet I am shy, and sometimes nervous. 
And I wonder'd what excuse would serve us 

To know each other better; 
But lifting my hat to the brown young maid. 
She smiled straight at me, unafraid. 

And presently began 
To speak with pretty words that ran 
Thro' English, French and Indian, — 

It was a lovely jargon; 
But she said no word of Jacques Valbeau, 
Who with the Devil, long ago. 

Made such a splendid bargain; 

So how was I to know ? 



IN AMBER LANDS 53 

Now it's sometimes sweet to be indiscreet. 
As for me I am never wise; 
So we sat us down on the warm, dry sod, 
'Mid brown grass and golden rod. 

Watching the butterflies. 
And she talk'd and talk'd, as I held her hand. 
And when I could not understand 
I look'd down deep into her eyes. 

Perhaps the thing sounds silly, 
But think of the picture that she made, 

Array'd like a tiger-lily : 
Her body brown and quivering 
In that revealing petticoat. 
With catamount-claws at her fine throat 

Fixt on a catgut string; 
And the copper beads and color'd quills, 
Just that and her dainty moccasins, — 

O she was the dreamliest thing! 
And I met her, for my sins, 
Somew^here back of Ottawa, 

Among the oldest hills. 

IX. 

The sun was slipping down the sky, 

Close to the green horizon. 
When sudden I saw the fairiest sight 

That ever I set my eyes on : 
A yellow canoe, with three of a crew, 

Almost too fast to follow. 
Straight out of the sky to the hilltop nigh, 



54 IN AMBER LANDS 

Came skimming along like a swallow, 
And then to the cabin, right below, 
It slid with a motion easy and slow, 
And a man stept out — already yoii know 
'Twas Jacques Valbeau — 'twas Jacques Valbeau ! 

Gaunt he was like an eagle, 

With an evil eagle glance; 
His black eye look'd me through and through, 

And his blue one leer'd askance ; 
The front of his head had been tomahawkt, 

And scalpt, but down his back 
His hair was flowing coarse and black, 

Like the tail of a horse that is dockt; 
Yet he had a very engaging smile. 

And I liked the way that he talk'd. 
He was straight as an arrow when he walk'd. 

And, after a little while, 
I thought him a handsome man — almost, 
And really quite a delightful host. 
Lie introduced the other two 
Who rode with him in the big canoe. 
One was a fat little country girl. 
With carroty hair in a towsell'd curl, 
Her dolly eyes had tears at the rim. 
And her face was pale as milk that is skim, 

And she was a sad little girl. 
The other guest was a shanty man, 

Half drunk by the looks of him; 
But the shantyman was an Irishman, 

And that is enous:h for him. 
Then Lottila and the country girl 



IN AMBER LANDS 55 

Left us and went to the upper 
Cabin above the whiskey still, 

To set the table for supper, 
While we sat down in the red sunlight, 

And listened to Jacques Valbeau 

As he told prodigious stories 

Of two hundred years ago, 
Of all the old coureurs-de-bois 

Dead so long ago, — 

We still there in the red sunlight, 

And they all gone below. 
Then came a sound, and I look'd around, 

Then up where Lottila 
Was ringing a queer little oblong bell — 

Maybe 'twas just a cowbell, 
Tho' I think 'twas silver, so clear and sweet 

The silver tone of it fell — 
And gladly we foUow'd Valbeau to the upper 
Cabin where we were to have our supper. 
For me, I was more than ready to eat. 

And the supper was a dream. 
We'd buttermilk and new potat, 
^And a roasted chicken, great and fat. 

With cauliflower in cream. 
And a glass or two of whiskey-blanc, 
Just to help the meal along. 
And another glass, and after that 

Tabac de habitant. 



56 IN AMBER LANDS 

X. 

Upon my soul, I never knew 

Just when we enter'd the big canoe, 

The same as one can never keep 

The moment clear one falls asleep. 

But so it was until I found 

We v/ere no more upon the ground. 

Now I at times am extremely nervous, 

As I said before, and when I found 

How that bewitch'd canoe did swerve us 

Up and away from the solid ground, 

With the hills a-sinking all around, 

And we once more in the copper glim 

Of the Sun we lost somewhile before, 

Oh, then, indeed, I thought small blame 

To the frighten'd girl with the towsell'd curl, 

And dolly eyes with tears at the rim, 

And face all pale as milk that is skim — 

I'll bet that my own was the same! 
But the shantyman was too drunk, I think, 
To know where we were — it's a beastly shame 

The way those Irish drink. 

XI. 

Now remember aviation 
Differs quite from navigation. 
For always in the water 
Of the river that you ride in, 
Or be it smooth or ripply, 
A canoe is very tipply, 



IN AMBER LANDS 57 

And steadily you kneel. 

But through the air you glide in 

A fashion that you feel 

It's a medium to confide in. 

And you needn't keep a keel, — 

That much I saw at a glance. 
And tho' I'm not sufficiently wise 
To make it clear, you can't capsize 

So long as you properly balance, 

Or rise by levitation. 

Now, that's why aviation 

Differs quite from navigation, 
And I had begun to feel easy again, 

And ready to take a chance. 
When all of a sudden it started to rain 
Right over our heads, and there was a growl 

Of thunder far down in the West. 
Then the Sun went out, and the wind 'gan howl, 
And a storm came bounding along on the crest 
Of the massy clouds, grown sulphurous, 
And there was the blue zig-zag and flash 
Of lightning, follow'd by instant crash 

Of the thunder nearing us. 
With that Valbeau began to sing, 
While Lottila did sway and swing 

Her brown arms perilous: 

Gai fnhiron falurettc, 
Gat fahiron donde! 
I did the same but tremblingly. 
And the Indian girl did grin with glee 

To see how the white girl shrunk, 



58 IN AMBER LANDS 

With her face in her hands and her head on my knee, 

But the shantyman still lay drunk, 

So how could I put her away? 

It was all so characteristic ! 

Gai fahiron fahirefte, 
Gai fahiron dondc! 
Now, it's all very fine to sing that way 

When everything else is right. 
But we sailed straight into a loaded cloud, 

So villainous anarchistic 
It bang'd like tons of dynamite : — 
For a time I was blind with the awful light, 

And deaf with the awful roar ; 
I felt we were blown clean out of sight, 

And then I felt we had sunk 
To the bottomless pit for evermore ; 

But the shantyman still lay drunk. 
It makes me shiver to think of it now. 
But after a bit I rallied somehow. 
\^albeau was laughing at the bow. 

And he bent far back to speak : 
*'Hola, monsieur; comment qa va?'' 
To keep my face with Lottila, 

I managed just to stammer: 
''Bully, Valbeau — c'est magnifique ! 

But go where the clouds are calmer !" 

XII. 

We were up in a cool, sweet air. 

Under a wonderful sky. 
Velvety dark and richly sown 



IN AMBER LANDS 59 

With wonderful stars from zone to zone, 

And all of them seem'd so nigh, 
But a little more, and we would play 
Near the opal arch of the Milky Way, 

With the yellow Moon near by. 
Then over the rim we look'd far down 

Where the World had vanish'd in ire. 
Where fold on fold of the black clouds rolld', 

Roaring and fearful with fire, 
And we rose from that Devil's crucible, 
Like souls that are rising released from Hell, 

To regions of glory and gold. 

Higher and higher and higher! 

And the air grew thin and cold : 

But higher and higher and higher 

I urged Valbeau to explore 
Nearer and nearer that border of gold 

And limit where mortals expire : 

Higher and higher and higher! 
While a million million miles to the fore, 
I watch'd the glint of a jewell'd door 

In the Gardens of Desire : 

Higher and higher and higher ! 
Till I was dazed and my breath was gone. 

And I could see no more. 

xiir. 
When I came to myself we were sailing down, 

And circling like a feather 
In a slow descending spiral flight 

Thro' m.ellow moonlit weather: 



6o IN AMBER LANDS 

And the country girl croon'd with deHght, 

And claspt her hands together. 
But still her head droop'd on my knee 

As she claspt her hands together, 
And so close were we that none could see 

As I fool'd with a carroty curl: 
Alas! I admit my conduct was raw, 
For my heart was all to Lottila, 

But I kissed the other girl. 
Now it's a great mistake, when up in the skies, 

To kiss the other girl, 
Just for a pair of dolly eyes, 

Or a cute little carroty curl : 
Yet not the slightest harm was meant, 
With me it's a matter of temperament; 

But the shantyman woke up! 

Oh, blast that Irish pup ! 
He woke and caught us in the act, 
Just at the moment our lips had smackt, 
And he went for me, hell-bent ; 
Let out from his ugly throat a yell, 
Told Lottila just what he saw. 

And — before I had time to explain. 

Or argue against the fact — 

That fact so apparently plain — 
They both made at me so savage I fell 

Without a chance to prepare! 
And I fell, and I fell, and I fell— my Lord! 
It's the awfulest feel to fall overboard 

From a canoe av/ay up in the air; 
It's really too swift to describe or tell, 



IN AMBER LANDS 6i 

But first you feel you're out of it, 

And then you feel a thump, 
And after that you're generally 

A most unlovely lump. 
But in my case 'twas different. 
My body was caught by a wind current, 

And it drove me sideways on, 
With a muffled whack, 'gainst a big haystack, 
And I tumbled it over and lay on my back 

Unconscious till the dawn, 

And so flat, flat, flat. 
That when I arose in misery, 

A long time after that, 
'Twas hard to remember where I was at. 

And I sigh'd lugubriously. 
With my body so stiff and my head so sore. 
It couldn't have hurt me any more 
If I'd been out all nigiit on a spree — 

Gee! 

XIV. 

But now, O fat and bulbous friend, 
Bibulate and let me end 

This tale ere I begin to 
Tell other things irrelevant 
Of venturings extravagant 

And mystery and sin, too : 
For I've had my time in every clime 

The Lord has led me into : — 
Altho' I'd rather not recall 

Some places that I've been to: — 



62 IN AMBER LANDS 

But give me August, after all, 
If I be free to roam and loll 
Among those tiger-lily hills 

Back of Ottawa. 
I am ready to risk whatever befal 
To meet once more that little squaw, 
The luring, lissome Lottila. 

Minding her whiskey stills; 
To listen again to her pretty patois, 
And hold her hand and hear her sing 
Among those tiger-lily hills. 

For she was the dreamliest thing! 
Gai fahiron falurette, — 

I think I hear her yet, 
Out there, in her buckskin petticoat. 
With catamount claws at her fine throat, 

Fixt on a catgut string; 
And the copper beads and color'd quills, 

And dainty moccasins, — 
The girl who met me, for my sins, 
Somewhere back of Ottawa, 
The wanton town of Ottawa, 

Among the oldest hills. 

Gai fahiron falurette, 

Gai fahiron donde! 



IN AMBER LANDS 63 



THE GARDENS OF TAO^ 



Over a bleak and barren plain 
Where flowers never bloom — 

Where never slant the gold sun-bars, 
Nor any stars illume 

The dim and sullen atmosphere 
There brooding o'er its doom — 

II. 

Alone there went an aged man, 
Who bent and cower'd low. 

As if across that hopeless waste 
In fearful haste to go, 

But could not, for his palsied legs 
That painful dragg'd, and slow. 

III. 

For age not come of mortal years 

Had over him unroH'd ; 
Like wither'd leaves on winter trees 

Dull memories and cold 
Still rustled dryly at his heart — 

But old— old— old ! 



64 IN AMBER LANDS 

IV. 

And, tremulous, full oft he turn'd 
His haggard ashen face, 

Expectant aye whence he had fled 
To loom in dread menace 

A stealthy Horror, that e'en now 
Crept after him apace. 



And long he fared with labor'd steps, 

And many moaning sighs. 
Till sudden changed the scene for him- 

He paused in grim surmise, 
And gazed, with feeble hand uplift 

Unto his bleared eyes. 

VI. 

For on that plain, whose barrenness 

No future may redeem. 
Now with emotion manifold 

His eyes behold a stream 
Of solemn waters rolhng with 

Unbroken ebon gleam. 

VII. 

Behind the haunted desert lay, 

Before a mystery, — 
What hazard there of better plight, 



IN AMBER LANDS 65 

What dark respite may be, 
Not knowing yet he ventures oru 
Round glancing fearfully. 



VIII. 

Yet when he reach'd the reedy shore 
To brave the river's brink, 

Despair almost like peace he felt 
The while he knelt to drink, 

Thinking in those deep waters there 
How easeful he might sink. 

IX. 

But as he bent to take the draught 
He spied a nearing light; 

And down the river slowly drew 
A lone canoe in sight, 

Wan as a crescent newly born 
Upon the verge of Night. 



At that his eyes were steadfast set 
Upon its ghmmering rim; 

Above the current visible 
The dainty shell did swim. 

Until it gleam'd upon the tide 
All fair abreast of him. 



66 IN AMBER LANDS 

XI. 

Then forth the old man stretch'd his arms, 
With mutter'd prayer and hoarse; 

As if that vessel frail could hear, 
It 'gan to veer, perforce 

Obedient to his one appeal, 
And shoreward bent its course. 

XII. 

A moment more upon that shore 

And he has parted thence ; 
He feels the soothing waters roll, 

Relieving soul and sense 
From every grief by reason of 

its slumberous influence. 

XIII. 

With closed eyes he lieth there, 

And one by one is shorn 
Of every thought with sorrow fraught, 

Till he hath naught to mourn; 
And far upon the bosom of 

That river he is borne. 

XIV. 

His age doth gradual dissolve; 

He is no more uncouth ; 
He feels within an elixir 

As if it were in sooth 
The blooming of some pale, delicious 

Afterflower of youth. 



IN AMBER LANDS (i-j 

XV. 

And now he's 'ware of warbling sounds. 

Faint echoing and blurr'd; 
And now of one more clear and strong; 

A wondrous song he heard; 
It seem'd the happy dreaming of 

Some lone entranced bird. 

XVI. 

A slow and golden slumber song. 

Whose languid numbers gloze, — 
A witchery of syllables 

In woven spells to close 
Sad eyes to long forgetfulness, 

And marble-like repose. 

XVII. 

At length the bird's sweet arias 

In fluted notes subside; 
He thinks how near its covert he 

Would peacefully abide ; 
Then once again his eyes unclose 

Upon the river's tide. 

XVIII. 

Around him fell a warm twilight. 

The waters now were blue; 
Far-off appear'd on either hand 

A terraced strand in view. 



68 IN AMBER LANDS 

Upleading to such gardens as 
No mortal ever knew. 

XIX. 

And while he gazed that wan canoe 

Unerringly did steer, 
As 'twere a thing of destiny. 

And presently drew near 
A gentle shore out jetting to 

A mottled marble pier. 

XX. 

And mooring there he stept ashore. 

Still joyously intent 
On seeking for that singing-bird, 

And garden-ward he went, 
Strolling thro' the solitudes 

In fearless wonderment. 

XXI. 

'Mid spaces smooth and wide between 
Where grow gigantic trees, 

Whose branches ever quiver in 
The faint continual breeze, 

And tangle up the placid sky 
With shifting traceries. 

XXII. 

Yet many steps he had not gone 

Ere strewn iipon the ground, 
Or gleaming from recesses dim, 



IN AMBER LANDS 69 

Or near to him, he found 
Abandon'd bodies beautiful 
In charmed slumber bound. 

XXIII. 

Comely youths and maidens in 

Secluded dells alone, 
Or else in easy groups reclin'd, 

With arms entwin'd — all prone 
Like fallen statues carven out 

From pallid Parian stone. 

XXIV. 

And some were e'en more fair to see 

And shone translucent white; 
They seem'd as waning to a sheen 

Of pure serene starlight ; 
And even as he gazed one slowly 

Faded from his sight. 

XXV. 

Awhile he marvell'd tranquilly, 

And then his eyes did stray 
To where an ancient man appear'd, 

With flowing beard and gray, 
Who musingly toward him bent 

His solitary way. 

XXVI. 

But as he came his footsteps scarce 

The silences bestirr'd ; 
He seem'd so rapt with reverent awe, 



70 IN AMBER LANDS 

He neither saw or heard 
For holy thoughts that compass'd him,— 
He pass'd without a word. 

XXVII. 

And gravely thro' the mighty glades 

Upon his way he kept, 
That ancient lone somnambulist. 

Who nothing wist except 
The reveries beguiHng him 

Where all the others slept. 

XXVIII. 

Then had he mind to follow on 

The Elder for a guide, 
Ere yet the forestry between 

Should weave a screen to hide 
His all-unheeding Druid form 

Which on ahead did glide.. 

XXIX. 

And long thro' aisled vistas that 

Bewildering intervene 
He follow'd on till he espied 

A vast hillside all green, 
With sloping lawns and fountains deckt, 

And high whereon is seen 

XXX. 

A wondrous gleaming palace built 
Of alabaster stone, 



IN AMBER LANDS 71 

With many a niche and window set 

And minaret far flown 
'Bove golden domes outswelHng like 

Fantastic fruit o'ergrown. 

XXXI. 

And in its centre wide beneath 

An ever-open door 
Gives promise of all pleasantness, 

With rich recess and store 
Of priceless treasures taken from 

The palaces of yore. 

XXXII. 

Yet that so easy seeming hill 

Soon fills him with amaze, 
Now near, now far, the palace gleams. 

Like one he seems who plays 
With quick reverse of optic glass. 

Until at length he strays. 

XXXIII. 

Unto a fountain playing in 

A single column cool, 
Whose showering waters musical 

With diamonds bejewel 
The silver'd air, returning to 

Their slumber in the pool. 



72 IN AMBER LANDS 

XXXIV. 

And by that fountain's grassy marge 
One peerless maid doth He, 

Uncompanion'd as a star, 
Her beauties far outvie 

All others in those gardens seen, — 
He will not pass her by. 

XXXV. 

Her face, half pillow'd on her arm, 

Is to his own upturn'd 
So tenderly, that it did seem 

She in her dream discern'd 
His coming, and tho' bound in sleep. 

Still for that coming yearn'd. 

XXXVI. 

His last desire finds body here 
The while he bends to kiss 

Her lips that open like a flower — 
What dulcet hour is this ! 

And half she wakens in his arms 
While he doth swoon for bliss. 

XXXVII. 

There hath he fallen by her side, 

All outer Hfe is spent, 
Unto that pale encircled sleep 

He yields in deep content; 
Thro' ages long to pass away 

In utter vanishment. 



IN AMBER LANDS 73 



OCTOBER. 

When I was a little fellow, long ago, 
The season of all seasons seemed to me 
The Summer's afterglow and fantasy — 

The red October of Ontario : 

To ramble unrestrain'd where maples grow 
Thick-set with butternut and hickory, 
And be the while companion'd airily 

By elfin things a child alone may know ! 

And how with mugs of cider, sweet and mellow. 
And block and hammer for the gather'd store 
Of toothsome nuts, we'd lie around before 

The fire at nights, and hear the old folks tell o' 
Red Indians and bears, and the Yankee war — 

Long ago, when I was a little fellow! 



74 IN AMBER LANDS 



THE VETERAN. 

One good old friend I had in boyhood's days, 
Who far and wide about the World had been — 
Had battles fought, and sieged cities seen. 

And met adventure in a thousand ways, 

That oft he told to me, in homely phrase, 

Haphazard, like his careless heart, but clean : 
It seem'd to ease the pains that rack'd him keen 

To be the hero of my childish plays. 

And when they put the old man in his grave, 
I mind I stood beside — but did not see : 
For thro' a blur of tears there came to me 

A vision as of sunlight, and a brave 
Awaken'd soul outsailing cheerily — 

Uplift upon a wondrous azure wave. 



IN AMBER LANDS 75 



COQUITLAM. 

How oft I'd steal away, in hot July, 

At early dawn, thro' dell and over hill. 
To hear at last Coquitlam's purring rill! — 

To whip the riffles with some gaudy fly, 

And tempt the leaping trout, alert and shy! 
Munching a bit of chocolate to still 
My hunger, as the day grew long, until 

The sun was shining low upon the sky. 

Then, proudly, with the fish that I had caught, 
Go trudging home for many a weary mile, 
Full certain of a mother's welcome smile, 

And that she'd choose the best that I had got. 
And bid me tell her all about it, while 

'Twas cook'd up for my supper smoking hot. 



76 IN AMBER LANDS 

THAT OTHER ONE. 



I used to go to Sunday school 

When I was a little boy; 
I said my catechism pat 
About the wrath to come — and that 

And holy kinds of joy; 
For my pretty teacher told me sure 

If I didn't learn it well 
God some day would stick me down 

In a red-hot hole in Hell. 

II. 

I used to think if God were dead 

How glad the World would be ! 
How all the solemn angels, up 
Where gold counts less than a buttercup 

Beside the Jaspar Sea, 
Would quit their endless psalm-singing 

And chuck their harps away! — 
And never a lonesome cherub would cry 

Upon God's funeral day! 

III. 

I felt there was some Other One, 
Who'd watch and keep it right 
For all the living things that are 
From the grass and the flowers to the farthest star,- 



IN AMBER LANDS TJ 



Just Whom I knew not quite; 
But some one like my Grandmother, 

Too kind to give a rip 
Whether I went to Sunday school 

Or off on a fishing trip. 



IV. 

Who'd leave the Gates of Hell unlocked 

So the devils could all crawl out ; 
And the burning ghosts and the gobHns, too — 
I often wonder'd what they'd do 

If they could look about 
And see the trees and the Sun again, 

And feel the wind go by, — 
I used to think those aching things 

Would be so glad they'd cry. 



V. 

Some One who'd fix old Eden up 

For us as good as new; 
And never would be jealous of 
Our silly souls if we should love 

A Golden Calf or two; 
And there wouldn't be any Forbidden Tree; 

But if anything went wrong 
We'd fight it out among ourselves 

Till we learned to get along. 



78 IN AMBER LANDS 

VL 

"When I was a child I thought as a child' 

E'en so, good Father Paul ! 
But more and more it seems to me 
That some of the things that children see 

Are the truest, after all. 
And e'en as a baby infidel 

This pearl of faith I won, 
And still I rest content therewith — 

God is that Other One. 



IN AMBER LANDS 79 



HARD TIMES NO MORE. 



The desert trail hath ended in 

A garden way at last : 
The burden of the iron years 

Of wandering is past : 
Dear Heart! the very children cry, 

Good-by, Hard Times, good-by! 



Hard Times come again no more! 
Hard Times come again no more ! 
O happy children of the King ! 
Hear them sing, sing, sing — 

Hard Times come again no more! 



How little in the Wilderness 

The great relief is guess'd ! 
Where seek the weary multitude 

Continually for rest! 
And dream not how it draweth nigh — 

Good-by, Hard Times, good-by ! 

Hard Times come again no more! 
Hard Times come again no more ! 
O happy children of the King! 
Hear them sing, sing, sing. 

Hard Times come again no more! 



8o IN AMBER LANDS 

The things that seem'd as shadows once 

Alone are real here : 
The glories of the Promised Land 

Shine out before us, dear ! 
And we shall enter, you and I, — 

Good-by, Hard Times, good-by! 



Hard Times come again no more! 
Hard Times come again no more ! 
O happy children of the King ! 
Hear them sing, sing, sing, 
Hard Times come again no more! 



IN AMBER LANDS 8i 



MOTHER. 

I. 

There's a voice that I have heard 

Along the Way of Life, 
A voice that soundeth only 

When my soul is worn with strife, 
When 1 fall in utter weakness 

On the stony endless steep, 
Some one comes and whispers to me 

''Sleep, child;, sleep !" 

II. 

Tis the Mother of us all 

That crooneth to me then, 
Soothing me with visions 

And dreams beyond my ken, 
With a song I do not understand, 

Whose words I cannot keep. 
Only the burden of her song — 

"Sleep, child, sleep!" 

III. 

O Mother— holy Mother ! 

O Mother of my soul ! 
Should day departing leave me 

Afar off from my goal. 



82 IN AMBER LANDS 

Let me fall as a weakling back 
To thy bosom, dim and deep ! 

And o'er my failure whisper only 
"Sleep, child— sleep !" 



IN AMBER LANDS 83 



THE DREAM OF THE DEEP. 

"We wake and find ourselves on a stair; there are 
stairs below us which we seem to have ascended; 
there are stairs above us, many a one, which go up- 
ward and out of sight." — Emerson, 



Lo, the Deep hath dream'd a dream 

Of omen sibylline ! 
An endless flow of endless dust 
Wherein unnumber'd gods are thrust, 

Who writhe unseen. 

II. 

And blind and dumb they be therein 

And find nor rest nor ease; 
From stupor rous'd by quenchless lust 
For that — they know not what — that dust 

Can ne'er appease. 

III. 

And writhing so, they wreak the dust 

To shapes of flor and faun, 
That rise and fall and rise anew, 
Crumbling, aye, as the gods reel through, 

Until — anon — 



84 IN AMBER LANDS 

IV. 

A few see thro' the murky reek 
What spirall'd pathway looms 
In Titan reaches, coil on coil ; — 
But the wise gods know 'tis bitter with toil 
And link'd with tombs ! 



V. 

Yet the air grows clear as they climb, and keen 

With perfume of numberless flowers; 
With passion of pleasure and poison of pain, 
And tang of things tasted again and again 
Thro' the endless hours. 



VI. 

But ever they feel one soundless urge 

Ominous under all, 
As wrought from the primal uncontent 
Of some abysmal banishment 

Beyond recall. 

VII. 

Nor purple bowers of idleness, 

Nor all the feasts of Time, 
Can free the gods of their grim unrest, 
Nor lure them from the awful quest 

Whereon they climb. 



IN AMBER LANDS 85 

VIII. 

The ages pass, and they find no end. 

And vain it all doth seem ; 
Yet still they toil for a topmost stair 
Whereon to wake — somehow — somewhere — 

Beyond the dream. 



86 IN AMBER LANDS 



THE SEER. 

If I have seen the Gods — the primal Three 

Who play a game that hath no goal in view — 
Who make, destroy, and evermore renew 

Within the bubble Space all things that be — 

Why should I halt and labor soberly, 

Or care to have men find my vision true? 
Enough, dear Heart, if I impart to you 

The vast assurance that it gives to me ! 

Their muddy brains would make it all a lie, 
The' with most golden words I told it o'er ; 
So much I've seen that I must see yet more 

While Time still gives occasion. Then to die, 
Let loose, and on my single way explore 

The unimagin'd orbits of the Sky! 



IN AMBER LANDS 87 



THE BUTTERFLY. 



Summertime, and a wasted shroud, and the sunlight 
glancing through 

And the stir of a creeping thing withal ; 
Thinking to crawl, — 
It flew. 

II. 

As if a yellow pansy from its stem had loos'd and 
flown, 

Up it flutter'd, scarce aware, 
Thro' crystal air 
Unknown. 

III. 

To find the narrow world that was now blossom'd 
endless wide : 

And, sailing on its saffron wings, 
Soon wondrous things 
It spied. 

IV. 

Around were honied feasts all set in the hearts of a 
thousand flowers; 

And merry mates to while away 
In wanton play 
The hours. 



88 IN AMBER LANDS 

V. 

With them it drifted, wing aslant, on veering winds at 
ease, 

Or ventur'd cool luxurious flights 
To the curving heights 
Of trees. 

VI. 

Or lone amid the pink delicious petals of a rose 
Anon 'twould linger somnolent 
In the rapt content 
Which knows 

VII. 

No end to leaves, no end to flowers, and the sweet 
grass under all : 

Then revel again with its airy clan 
Till night began 
To fall. 

VIII. 

'Twould cling in careless slumber then to the nearest 
scented brake, 

Or as the dusky hours wore on 
Perchance anon 
'Twould wake 

IX. 

With star-enamor'd kinsmen to explore a mystic noon, 
Winging a far, entranced flight 
In the lost light 
Of the Moon. 



IN AMBER LANDS 89 

X. 

To settle at length awearied in some lily-chalice pale; 
Nor waken till full-breasted Morn 
Rose breathing warm 
And hale. 

XI. 

So passed for it the easy hours ; but Summer waned at 
last, 

And its flower-body fell away 
As a husk one day 
Offcast. 

XII. 

Yet surely as before it knew a joyous wakening, 
So on some new and far-away 
Exultant day 
In Spring 

XIII. 

Another form shall build itself from out the formless 
Deep; 

For outer life befitting well 
The thing that fell 
Asleep. 

XIV. 

For in the loom of things to be the meanest life hath 
place 

To mark the way that it shall go, — 
By patterns slow 
To trace 



go IN AMBER LANDS 

XV. 

Its long ascent thro' Dust and Death to God's infinity; 
And evermore the seed unseen 
Of what hath been 
Shall be. 



IN AMBER LANDS 91 



NIRVANA. 

Down the ages comes a sound grown dark 
With unrememher'd meaning. Many heard 
Fall from the lips of One illum'd a word 

Whose doubtful gospel seem'd to quench all spark 

Of separate love and joy, with promise stark, 
If from their patient hearts still undeterr'd 
They rooted all desire — the boon conferr'd 

Should be to pass from Life without a mark. 

Old devotees, dream on ! Old scholars, nod 
Over the meaning of the Indian sage ! 
But I, awakening in a later age, 

Choose not the deserts where His saints have trod, 
Nor cleave to ancient rites or holy page; 

Singing on my careless way to God. 



92 IN AMBER LANDS 



ILLUMINED. 



I woke in the Land of Night, 

With a dream of Day at my heart ; 
Its golden outUnes vanish'd, 

But its charm would not depart ; 
Like music still remaining, 

But its meaning — no man can say 
In the Land of Night where they know not 

Of Day, nor the things of Day. 



II. 

I dwelt in the chiefest city 

Of all the Land of Night ; 
Where the fires burn ever brighter 

That give the people light ; 
Where the sky above is darkened. 

And never a Star is seen, 
And they think it but children's fancy 

That ever a Star hath been. 



III. 

But out from that city early 
I fled by a doubtful way ; 

And faltering oft and lonely 
I sought my dream of Day; 



IN AMBER LANDS 93 

Till I came at last to a Mountain 

That rose exceeding high, 
And I thought I saw on its summit 

A glint as of dawn from the sky. 



IV. 

'Twas midway on that Mountain 

That I found an altar-stone, 
Deep-cut with runes forgotten, 

And symbols little known ; 
And scarce could I read the meaning 

Of the legends carven there, 
But I lay me out on that altar, 

Breathing an ancient prayer : 



"By the God of the timeless Sky, 

Saint of the Altar, say 
What gift hast thou for me? 

For I have dream'd of Day : 
But I seek nor gift nor power, 

1 pray for naught but light ; 
And only for light to lead me 

Out of the Land of Night !" 

VI. 

Long I lay on that altar, 

L^p-gazing fearfully 
Thro' the awful cold and darkness 



94 IN AMBER LANDS 

That now encompass'd me; 
Till it seem'd as I were lying drown'd 
Under a lifeless sea. 



VII. 

There shone as a pale blue Star, 

Intangible^serene — 
And I saw a spark from it fall 

As it were a crystal keen ; 
And it flash'd as it fell and pierc'd 

My temples white and cold ; 
Then round that altar-stone once more 

The awful darkness roll'd. 



VIII. 

But there was a light on my brow, 

And a calm that steel'd me through. 
And I was strong with a strength 

That never before I knew ; 
With a strength for the trackless heights, 

And scorn of the World below — 
But I rose not up from that altar-stone, 

I would not leave it so. 



IX. 

"O Saint of the Altar, say 

How may this light redeem? 
For tho' on my brow like a jewel 



IN AMBER LANDS 95 

Its Star hath left a gleam, 
O Saint, 'tis a light too cold and cruel 
To be the light of my dream !'* 

X. 

Anon 'twas a crimson Star 

That over the Altar shone, 
And there sank as a rose of flame 

To my heart ere the Star was gone; 
And out from the flames thereof 

A subtle fragrance then 
Went stealing down the mountain-side 

O'er the lowly ways of men. 

XI. 

The Star was gone, but it brought 

To light in its crimson glow 
The lovely things forgotten 

I dream'd of long ago ; 
And gladly then I had given 

My life to all below ; 
Yet I rose not up from that altar-stone, 

I would not leave it so. 

XII. 

And at last was a golden Star ; 

But I scarce know how nor where; 
For it melted all around me. 

And the other Stars were there ; 
And all in one blissful moment 



96 IN AMBER LANDS 

The light of Day had come; — 
Then I reel'd away from that altar-stone. 
Old, and blind, and dumb. 

XIII. 

I dwell again in the city, 

I seek no more for Hght ; 
But I go on a mission of silence 

To those who would leave the Night; 
And for this — and this thing only, 

Thro' the evil streets I stray; 
I who am free to the timeless Sky 

Illumin'd forever with Day. 



IN AMBER LANDS 97 



THE CLUE. 

To make the great escape — to issue hence — 
To Hve no more, nor dream among the Dead 
Nor be with endless change discomforted — 

Think not you need all Time's experience 

To ponder on some granite eminence. 
Enough in any life to find this thread, 
And loosely by its blended strands be led: 

Unmeasur'd Love and sheer Indifference. 

Beloved ! would you have me wait for you — 
Your fellow-pilgrim on the formless Way — 
And waiting seek some form of words to say — 

Some novel phrase to make old precepts new 
And draw you swiftly nearer to me? Nay, 

Mere words have worth no more — you have the Clue ! 



98 IN AMBER LANDS 



EDGAR ALLAN POE. 

A star-eyed captive, in a lonely tower, 

Look'd o'er a lake outspread in sullen gloom, 
Illumin'd with infrequent lily bloom. 

There wayward Zephyrs sounded hour by hour 

Upon a harp whose Eolian power 

Beguil'd him, as he paced his haunted room, 
To songs ne'er heard before — voicing a doom 

That from the very Heavens seemed to lour. 

He sang the songs of Death till Death, his theme, 
Engulf'd him in that Night of Mystery 
Wherein so often he had peer'd to see 

The trail of vanish'd Love — the Elysian gleam 
Upleading to a starry destiny — 

Twinkling from the very gates of Dream. 



IN AMBER LANDS 99 



IDLEWILD. 



Once in the land of the Maple, 
In the midmost Autumn time, 

The mellow, waning, yellow, 
Indian summer time, 

With the maid Estelle I stray'd 

To gather leaves in a lonely glade 
Afar in the forest of Idlewild — 
Forgotten Idlewild. 

II. 

And we linger'd there, for we sought 

The choicest of the leaves ; 
'Twas hard to choose, and we could not 

Decide on the loveliest leaves ; 
But all that dying Indian day. 
While it waned and waned away. 

How they floated round us, glinting 
In the amber light, and tinting 
All the aisles of Idlewild ! 
All the aisles and hidden places 
Where the forest interlaces 

O'er the paths in Idlewild! 

How they vanished, strangely hinting 
Of the silent other spaces 



100 IN AMBER LANDS 

More remote in Idlewild! 
Fell or vanish'd, ever hinting 
Of the secret that effaces 
All the joy of Idlewild ! 

in. 

Till the Gates of the West were open'd — 
Oh ! the Gates of the West are wide ! 

And the amber light sank down and flow'd 
Away in a wine-red tide ; — 

Away thro' the forest of Idlewild 
In a wine-red, weird tide. 

IV. 

But the leaves drank deep till they drain'd 
The wine-light out of the West ; — 

The last of the wine, till it stain'd 

Their hearts with the hues of the West,- 
With the hectic hues of the West. 

V. 

Ah, now in the land of the Maple, 

In the midmost Autumn time. 
The mellow, waning, yellow, 

Indian summer time. 
Disconsolate I roam 

Afar within the aisled. 
Olden, silent, golden 

Forest of Idlewild, — 
Forest of lonely memories only,-^ 

Silent and golden-aisled. 



IN AMBER LANDS loi 

VI. 

But I find therein no solace save 

At a spot made holy with tears ; 
At a spot where the ancient branches wave 
O'er the palest dead that ever they gave 

To that forest made holy with tears. 
And the hours pass there unheeded by 
As I dream o'er the remnant leaves that lie 

Strewn from the dim receding years 
Deep on her grave. 

VII. 

O, Estelle, beloved ! 

Maid of my heart's one dream ! 
Thy vision thro' far Elysian 

Vistas I see in my dream ; — 
Vistas that loom thro' the ultimate West, 
Wherein thy soul hath sank to rest; — 

O richer than life in a dream sublime, 

Beyond the tremor and touch of Time! 



102 IN AMBER LANDS 



THE JEWEL THAT CAME, 

I. 
Once an artless maiden, 

Fair and sweet, 
Knelt too low, they say. 

At an idol's feet, — 
Just the usual idol 

Made of the usual clay, 
That went to dust entirely 

In the usual way. 

II. 

Alas and alas for a maiden 

Put to scorn ! 
All soil'd with the dust of her idol. 

And left forlorn ! 
But in the dust she found 

A jewel one day — 
A jewel of wondrous beauty. 

So they say. 

III. 
Then she sang: "Now Httle I care 

For the World so cruel ; — 
O what were the World to me 

Without my jewel! 
For this — ah, this is the heart 

Of my idol of clay ! 
And I'll keep it and love It forever — 

Whatever they say!" 



IN AMBER LANDS 103 

NOCTURNE. 



Twas in a garden of the rich 
Where all were guests to roam 
Down terraced lawns amid the gloam 
Of a night in June. 

II. 
Gallants gay, with ladies dight 
In silk attire, were there; 
But alien fine and debonaire 
Stood one alone. 

III. 

And of that throng I knew not which 
Could claim such cousin fair; — 
Akin she seem'd to the merest air 
Of a night in June. 

IV. 

An orchid born of the young moonlight 
That trails thro' tropic bowers; 
I found her 'mong those Northern flowers 
So all alone, 

V. 

Till our hostess, with a smile, 
Came and led me to 

That orchid-maid — and then all through 
That night in June 



104 IN AMBER LANDS 

VI. 

There came none other to my sight ; 
The orbed orange glow 
Of lanterns lit a path to go 
Off alone 

VII. 

Where bronzed Mexicans the while 
On mandolins did play 
Love tunes of Spain that seem'd to say 
That night in June : 

VIII. 

"O Senorita of Delight ! 
Lo, the hour of bhss! 
Lo, the years have bloomed for this — 
This alone! 

IX. 

"No carven Saint in marble niche 
That pilgrims kneel before; — 
No dream of Eldorado's shore 
On nights in June 



"Can lure across the tossing seas 
With promise more divine 
Than can the beauty that is thine- 
Thine alone. 



IN AMBER LANDS 105 



XI. 

''Lo, this garden of the rich 
Made wide for us, and free! 
With all the crescent witchery 
Of a night in June ! 

XII. 

''And lo, the overarching trees 
That cover us from sight! 
O Senorita of Delight! 

Here — alone !" 



io6 IN AMBER LANDS 

THE WANTON YACHT. 

I. 

Over the sea at sunset 

I heard sweet music ring, 
And I saw a white yacht saiHng, 

And I heard a fair crew sing: 

Bravehearts ! Sweethearts ! 

We sail the Wanton Yacht; 
And anywhere and everywhere 
That's far away and faint and fair 
Is the goal of the Wanton Yacht; 
Yo ho! 
For the goal of the Wanton Yacht ! 

II. 

And long I stay'd to hear 

Their songs that came to me 
Out of the deepening twilight, 

Over the purple sea: 

Bravehearts ! Sweethearts ! 

We sail the Wanton Yacht, 
Free as the wave and the careless breeze, 
With only our hearts, Sweethearts, to please. 
On the deck of the Wanton Yacht, 
Yo ho! 
For the deck of the Wanton Yacht ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 107 

III. 

Till the blue of the Summer night 

Grew dark like a sapphire stone, 
And the Yacht was hid from my sight, 

As I sang by the sea alone : 

Bravehearts ! Sweethearts ! 

Sail on in the Wanton Yacht ! 
And would that I were with you this night ! — 
With youth and love and the loose delight 
Of life on the Wanton Yacht — 
Yo ho! 
For life on the Wanton Yacht! 



io8 IN AMBER LANDS 



FAREWELL. 



I will not seek thee for mine own, 

I would not mar thy fate ; 
I will not breathe one vain regret 

That we have met too late. 

II. 

I will not venture now to hope 

Thy path may interwine 
By sweet, unseen and secret ways 

In happier days with mine. 

III. 

But, Lady, I would have thee know 

This once ere we do part 
Since first I met thee thou hast been 

An idol in my heart, 

IV. 

Before whose solitary shrine, 
When Night o'ercometh me, 

My soul yet keeps one crimson gleam 
To dream and dream of thee. 



IN AMBER LANDS 109 



To dream what now thou may'st not hear, 

What now I may not tell ; — 
Ah, Lady mine, those dreams are past 

With this — my last farewell! 



no IN AMBER LANDS 



THE ARBOR ARABESQUE. 



'Twas in an arbor arabesque 

Where tangling vines did screen 
From watchful eyes, I met thee first, 
O wan and witching, passion-curst 
Irene ! 

II. 

Thy kinsmen kept thee from the World, 

Cold as a cloister'd maid, 
Destin'd for gold and high degree. 
And deem'd their iron will by thee 
Obey'd. 

III. 

A flower to bloom in stately halls, 

Ancestral and alone, 
They thought thee all too chill and pure 
To break the seal of love's allure 
Unknown. 

IV. 

Ah, witching one ! I pledge thee still 
For the ruddy wanton tide 



IN AMBER LANDS 3ii 

That flush'd the virgin veins in thee 
With young desire that would not be 
Denied ! 



V. 

That welcom'd me in the wandering days 

When once, by starry chance, 
I found thee in that Northern wold 
Reading an Orient rhyme of old 
Romance ! 



VI. 

Oblivious to all else beside, 

Thine eyes were dreaming o'er 
A quaintly pictur'd open book 
Of tales once told to Lalla Rookh 
Before 

VII. 

Her minstrel lover left her side, 
In humble guise grown dear, 
To claim her where his palace tower'd 
Within the vale of rose-embower'd 
Kashmir. 



VIII. 

But what to me that day were all 
The songs of minstrelsy? — 



112 IN AMBER LANDS 

Of maids who sigh'd and knights who dared 
In ancient days? — I only cared 
To see 

IX. 

Thy silken hammock swinging low. 

In crimson tangles wrought; — 
Thy body curving light and free 
Within its yielding tracery ; — 
Methought 



No houri-haunted bower upbuilt 

By dreaming Saracene 
E'er greater beauty did enshrine, 
Or loveHness surpassing thine, 
Irene ! 



XI. 

Long 'neath the vine-clad arch I stay'd 

Of that sweet solitude; 
Scarce breathing, — so I found thee fair, 
I would not then retreat, nor dare 
Intrude. 

XII. 

Where slept thy haughty kinsman then, 
The while I watch'd unseen, 



IN AMBER LANDS 113 

The tang of those love tales inspire 
Thy willing body as with fire, 
Irene ? 



XIII. 

No rumor of the World was there; 

But round us seem'd to float 
A low Eolian undertone 
From gloom of royal gardens blown 
Remote. 



XIV. 

And when at last I ventur'd in, 

What words I found to say 
I know not now — I only know 
Thine eyes grew soft, thy voice sank low. 
That day. 



XV. 

Yet how for me thy love did swift 

As some wild rose unfold 
Under the Sun of Summertime, — 
Ah, this may not in idle rhyme 
Be told ! 

XVI. 

But there were days — sweet stolen days^- 
Ere dawn'd the wretched morn 



114 IN AMBER LANDS 

That saw that arbor desolate, 
And thee consigned to gilded fate, — 
Forlorn. 

XVII. 

That banish'd me to roam, Irene, 

Upon this barren shore ; 
Thou hast thy gold and high degree- 
I go my way and hear of thee 
No more. 

XVIII. 

Yet still in memory thou art mine, — 

Still one Midsummer night 
For me is glimmering in the past 
With the passion of its last 
Delight. 

XIX. 

When the elfin zephyrs follow'd thee, 

And their balmy breath did steep 
All the dusk and sultry air 
That waver'd softly round us there 
With sleep. 



XX. 

For on that night — that only night — ■ 
When thou wast mine, Irene ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 115 

When thou dicl'st lavish all thy charms 
On me, and tremble in my arms, 
And lean 

XXI. 

Back in glad abandon to 

My passionate embrace, 
Love leapt to flame that all thy tears 
Could not then quench, — nor after years 
Efface. 

XXII. 

Out of the arbor arabesque. 

In the deep Midsummer night, 
I sav^ thee pass, and it seem'd the gleam 
Of a falling star, — and it seem'd a dream 
In flight. 

XXIII. 

O wan Irene, so far from me! 

I know not where thou art ; 
But I love thee, and I'll love thee till 
Death's final hand shall touch and still 
My heart! 

XXIV. 

Nay, through the night of the afterdeath, 

And the ghastly vast ravine, 
'Gainst all obstructions of the dead 
I'll win some way to thee, dream-led, 
Irene ! 



ii6 IN AMBER LANDS 



THE WRONG WAY. 



I woke to find me lying in 

A lonely desert place, 
Where ever-shifting silver sands 

Caress'd my hands and face ; 
Of hill or tree or human thing 

I saw no sign or trace. 

II. 

But the lovely dreams that children dream 

Were never half so fair: 
Oh, to that lone awakening 

I can no thing compare! 
I laugh'd for mere delight to breathe 

The moving golden air. 

III. 

I kiss'd my naked arms, my heart 

With subtle rapture beat 
When shapely hands, blue-vein'd and wan, 

I laid upon my feet : 
The trickling sands upon them seem'd 

Like waters cool and sweet. 



IN AMBER LANDS H? 

IV. 

And loosely I was clad in white, 

With a girdle at my waist ; 
And from my soul seem'd every stain 

Of care and pain effaced : 
A nodding wreath of poppy flowers 

Upon my brow was placed. 

V. 

And long I look'd in silence o'er 

The silvery expanse ; 
Anon with music's soft employ 

I did my joy enhance : 
No siren e'er had sweeter voice 

To give it utterance. 

VI. 

But that— ah, that would not suffice— 

The more I sang the more 
Methought the sands alluringly 

Did beckon me explore 
What splendid city lay beyond — 

What foam-besprent seashore ! 

VII. 

Then up I rose and sought the West, 

Wherein the Sun declin'd ; 
And light and merrily I flew, 

While ever blew behind, 
Outspreading wide my yellow hair, 

A perfume-laden wind. 



ii8 IN AMBER LANDS 

VIII. 

On and on and ever on, 
With white, untiring feet; 

And over sands interm'nable 
Ne'er fled gazelle so fleet 

To find what faery thing might be 
Where sky and desert meet. 

IX. 

How many a sore and stricken heart 
Might then have envied me 

That soothing, virgin desert land ! — 
So lonely and so free ! 

Seclusion sweet commingled all 
With sunlit liberty. 

X. 

And soon with scarce a motion of 
My own I smiled to find 

How all unstriving I did fly: — 
Then reckless I resign'd 

My body as a burden blithe 
Unto the eager wind. 

XI. 

And on and on and ever on 

I held my steady way ; 
And felt the passion of that flight 

No distance might allay ; 
Not e'en the stars' sweet benison 

At ending of the day. 



IN AMBER LANDS 119 

XII. 

But with amaze I saw at last 

How huge the Sun did shine; 
And this also I marvell'd o'er — 

It did no more decline, 
But red and eerie linger'd on 

The far horizon line. 

XIII. 

Yet on and on and ever on 

The silver sands I spurn'd, 
Till in the nearing Western sky 

My ghastly eye discern'd 
What awful flames were writhing where 

The seeming Sun had burn'd. 

XIV. 

And from those flames there rear'd aloft 

Envenom'd smoke and fume ; 
Riven by many a fiery streak 

The pitchy reek did loom 
Prodigious thro' the night that lour'd 

Above that Pit of Doom. 

XV. 

Then went the sands to ashes gray 
That smoulder'd 'neath my feet ; 

The wind, a tempest horrible, 
Now baffled all retreat; 

And soon upon my twitching face 
I felt the searing heat. 



120 IN AMBER LANDS 

XVI. 

The wreath of scarlet poppy flowers 

Fell withering and dead; 
The scars upon my burning brow 

Were scarlet now instead; 
My girdle to a serpent turn'd, 

With fang'd and fiery head. 

XVII. 

And all my hair, now ashen-gray, 
And monstrous overgrown, 

That rigid in the reeking night 
With drear affright had flown, 

Around me in all strangling shapes 
Of pestilence was blown. 

XVIII. 

Till came the end v/here seems no end,- 
My body sway'd and whirl'd 

Frantic on the lurid edge 

Where Hell doth hedge the World ;- 

Then down the scarlet Pit of Doom, 
Shrieking to God, was hurl'd ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 121 



ON BEACON HILL, 
British Columbia. 



Prone on a grassy knoll where runs the sea 
In from the North Pacific, deep and blue, 
Whose tide-ript waters many a century 
But parted for the painted war canoe, 
Till Juan de Fuca and his swarthy crew 
SaiFd on a treasure cruise to regions cold, 
Idle I dream'd a summer evening through. 
Watching the ruddy Western Sun enfold 
The snowy-peak'd Olympians in transient gold. 



Our air hath yet some tang of Spanish days. 
Some glow of stories fading from the past 
Of pioneers, and wreckt and curious strays 
From distant lands along this coast up-cast, 
Since brave Vancouver, from his eager mast, 
Beheld the island of his lasting fame, 
And, veering to its pleasant shore, made fast 
To raise our flag in George's royal name. 
While group'd around his brawny tars gave loud ac- 
claim. 



122 IN AMBER LANDS 



III. 

Across the rocky harbor mouth still fall 
Echoes to tell of England's easy crown. 
And timely bugles from the barracks call 
A challenge to the careless little town 
That lies like a pretty maid in tatter'd gown 
'Mid tangled gardens, tempting one to halt 
Where gnarled oaks, with ivy overgrown, 
Are all accord with her one charming fault- 
So drousy nigh the hidden guns of Esquimalt. 



IV. 

And nonchalant lay I that afternoon, 
The air a scent of wild white clover bore, 
And I could hear the tumult and the tune 
Of tumbHng waves along the pebbled shore ; 
Such gipsy joys to me were ever more 
Than chase of gold or fame ; but yet withal 
I felt the first fine tremor o'er and o'er 
Of some vast traffic without interval 
To traverse soon these waterways imperial. 



Where now some tugboat leaves a smoky trail 
To pencil on the air a coiling blot 
Athwart the lighthouse, or the infrequent sail 
Of some slow lumber bark, or vagrant yacht, — 
Where glides some British cruiser, grimly 

wrought, 
Beside the schooners from the Arctic seas, — 



IN AMBER LANDS 123 

To largely feed the crowded world methought 
Here soon shall pass great annual argosies 
Full-freighted with the yield of prairie granaries. 

VI. 

And musing thus upon that gentle mound, 
Far down the reach of waters to the right 
I saw an Empress liner inward bound, 
Speeding thro' the Narrows, trim and white, 
And every moment growing on my sight, 
Like something clear unfolding in a dream; 
Her very motion was a clean delight. 
That woke the sapphire sea to curl and cream 
Smoothly off her curving prow and snowy beam. 

VII. 

And easily as up the Straits she roll'd. 
My fancy rambled over her to see, 
Bulging richly 'gainst her steely hold, 
Bales of flossy silk stow'd solidly 
With matted rice and tons of fragrant tea; 
Or else, her quainter cargo fain to scan, 
Wee China toys in silver filigree, 
And cunning ivories of old Japan, 
Pack'd with iris-woven rugs from Ispahan. 

VIII. 

All hail to her! the white forerunner sent 
From out the lavish West to rouse the old 
Lethargic portals of the Orient, 



124 IN AMBER LANDS 

Till all its stolid habitants be told 
Of quick new modes of life, and manifold 
Swift engines of exchange, and how by these 
To run their times within a finer mould, 
And from the rut of Chinese centuries 
To reach for wider joys and soother luxuries. 

IX. 

Oh ! sure it is no small thing to be said 
That under us the East and West have met! 
And our red route shall yet be perfected 
Around the World, and our old flag shall yet 
Much vantage o'er its younger rivals get. 
Whether it wave from Windsor's kingly pile, 
Or on the farthest verge of Empire set, 
'Bove fearless towns, whose heartstrings all the 
while 
Shall thrill to every chord from their old Mother-isle. 



We feel the centre now, where'er we stand. 
And touch community in everything, 
Since Science, with her patient, subtle hand, 
Hath snar'd the Globe as in a wizard's ring, 
And set all elements a-quivering 
To our desire. What marvels more she'll show — 
What new delights from Nature conjuring — 
Small wit have I to guess, but this I know. 
That more and more the scattered World as one must 
grow. 



IN AMBER LANDS 125 

XL 

Then closer blend for empire — that is power : 
No thing of worth e'er came of feebleness, 
And union is the genius of the hour. 
The virtues that by master craft and stress 
Wrought hugely on primeval palaces, 
And 'stonish'd Egypt and great Babylon 
With monuments of admirable excess, 
Seem once again from out Oblivion drawn 
To lighten o'er the Earth in unexampled dawn. 

XII. 

We front the threshold of a giant age. 
Foremost still, but others follow fast; 
We may not trust o'ermuch the written page, 
Nor measure with the measures of the past. 
For all our millions, and our regions vast. 
And arm'd array, in boastful numbers told, 
To keep the treasures that our sires amass'd 
Hath need of statesmen lion-like to hold, 
And still forestall the changing times, alert and bold. 



XIII. 

The impulse of the struggling centuries 
Strikes upward now in our united race. 
Not for a Roman triumph, but to ease 
The intercourse of nations, and to place 
The social fabric on a happier base ; 
The very enginry of war abhorr'd, 



126 IN AMBER LANDS 

So soon as may, is bended to erase 
The stain and bloody ravage of the sword; 
The vanquish'd now are all to equal right restor'd. 

XIV. 

But cry contempt upon that sickly creed 
That would not fire a shot to save its own, 
Whose piety perverse doth only feed 
The hope of leaner nations, bolder grown, 
To tread the path that we have hewn alone : 
'Twas not for them we found that path so hard — 
'Twas not for them the Earth so thick was sown 
With British dead ! Nay, rather let us guard 
The barest rock that flies our flag at all hazard. 

XV. 

And e'en for sake of rich and plenteous peace, 
Let mastery in arms be honor'd still ! 
So only shall the fear of foemen cease. 
For this is naked truth, say what they will, 
That when a people lose the power to kill 
They count for naught among the sons of men ; 
Nor tongue, nor pen, nor art, nor workmen's skill 
Can save their homes from alien ravish then, 
Or lift their fallen capitols to place again. 

XVI. 

Then give us rifles — rifles everywhere — 

Ready rifles, tipt with bayonets ! 

And men of iron to lead, who little care 



IN AMBER LANDS 127 

For parlor tactics or for social sets ; 
Red captains worthy of their epaulets ; 
Not rich men's sons to make a passing show, 
Lace-loving fops or wooden martinets, 
But clear-eyed stalwarts o'er the ranks, who 
know 
How best to train a naval gun or trap a foe. 

XVII. 

And tho' the burden and the fret of life 
Still wear upon us with unequal weight, 
We'll ne'er give way to fratricidal strife. 
We are a people strong to tolerate, 
Till form'd opinion tranquilly abate 
The jagg'd abuses of an earlier age. 
Rather than, impatient, emulate 
Those hapless nations that in sudden rage 
Of revolution wreck their ancient heritage. 

XVIII. 

Our Saxon temper, that 'gainst Church and 

Crown, 
And tyrant Castles of the feudal plan, 
Made steady way until it wore them down, 
And straiten'd all their maxims till they ran 
Current for the right of every man 
Freely to change his state and circumstance, 
Is virile yet unbrokenly to span 
What gulf ahead, what unforeseen mischance. 
Would threat the front of our magnificent advance. 



128 IN AMBER LANDS 

XIX. 

And we have those whose dreams of betterment 
Outrun their fleeting day ; whose hearts ideal 
Beat evermore against discouragement, 
In high endeavor not to cease till all 
The bars to opportunity shall fall 
Within the Union of the British bred ; 
Nor rest content until the mutual 
Machinery of State be perfected, 
So that no least of all our brethren go unfed. 

XX. 

I never saw Britannia carved in stone, 
Or figured out in bronze, but loyally 
IVe thought what merit shall be all her own 
In that great Brotherhood that's yet to be — 
The diamond Empire of Futurity — 
Whose equal citizens, all thron'd elate, 
And treading each a sovran destiny, 
Shall count it yet their pride and best estate 
To steadily for commonwealth co-operate. 



XXI. 

Who'd be the bard of that triumphant time ? 

Who hath the pen of promise, and the skill, 

To tell its periods in exultant rhyme? 

For I am but a dreamer on a hill, 

And prone withal fantastic hours to fill 

With fancies running wild of thought, or gloat 



IN AMBER LANDS 129 

Eerie on the rising Moon, until 
Betimes I hear her dim harmonic note — 
Boding of forbidden things and themes remote. 

XXII. 

But so a passing ship — a bugle call — 

Did tempt me to essay a song of State 

Beyond the range of my poor art, as all 

You rank'd Olympians, that loom serrate 

Against the azure upper air, are great 

O'er this low hill. To them young Morning 

throws 
His golden first largesse — there, lingering late, 
Rose-mantled Eve her deep allegiance shows. 
Glorious 'mid unconquer'd peaks and virgin snows. 



I30 IN AMBER LANDS 



O CANADA! 

I. 

O Canada ! Great land our fathers won 
Bravely from the ancient Wilderness ! 
Their fight is o'er, their work is done, 

Their memory we bless, 
And pass the word from sire to son 
To match their hardiness : 
From shore to shore for thee we'll stand, 
O Canada, forever hand in hand ! 

II. 

We build upon foundations broad and sure, 
We stablish fast our place with industry: 
God grant our work may still endure. 

And aid us mightily 
To keep our homes and altars pure 
Against the enemy! 
From shore to shore for thee we'll stand, 
O Canada, forever hand in hand! 

III. 

Oh, not for threat, nor guile, nor deeds of dread, 
Nor destiny made glorious with gold, 
Be from the ways of honor led 
Thro' all thy years untold! 



IN AMBER LANDS 131 

But keep the faith inherited 
From loyal days of old ! 
From shore to shore for thee we'll stand, 
O Canada, forever hand in hand! 



132 IN AMBER LANDS 



THT CHILCOOT PASS. 



Far up the Chilcoot Heights ! The solid snow, 
Avalanch'd from Titan peaks that rise 
In stony isolation 'gainst the skies, 
Hath whelm'd all in soundless overthrow ; 
And almost now the white and crusted mass 
Hath choked the glacier's ghastly blue crevasse 
That cleaves to everlasting cold below : 
The wintry day declines ; and down the Pass, 
Where Time hath fallen, desolate, asleep, 
To mark the flight of Arctic hours gigantic shadows 
creep. 

II. 

But see ! Upon that perilous meagre trail, 
There winding upward to a dazzling crest, 
A miner inward bound on Fortune's quest! 
And tho' the sunlight's slanting weak and pale, 
Tho' in the livid clouds a tempest lours. 
And far above him yet the Summit towers, 
He sees therein no sight to make him quail ; — 
'Gainst any steep he'd pit his stubborn powers ; 
He goes, as dauntless men have gone of old, 
To play with Death in a land unknown for a stake of 
love and gold. 



IN AMBER LANDS 133 

III. 

Steady he's toil'd for hours ; at last he makes 
A moment's pause to shift his heavy pack, 
The twisted straps chafe sore upon his back, 
And with hard travel all his body aches. 
But now it is he notes with some dismay 
What little measure's left him of the day. 
And how the air's ablur with thin white flakes ; 
Yet up the Pass he takes one quick survey, 
Then grimly on he goes with hastening stride, 
For he must be over the Summit by night — he will 
sleep on the other side. 

IV. 

Let others lag ; he'll on with the first of the rush ! 
Down rivers roaring into deserts bleak. 
He'll pioneer his way to the richest creek — 
He'll cut and thaw the frozen earth — he'll crush 
Its hoarded treasure out — and he'll call his claim 
"The Little Annie !" For him that simple name 
Lights up a dream of home returning flush 
With store of yellow gold and golden fame; 
Bringing back the happy days once more 
To a little girl left lonely on the lone Lake Erie shore. 



The gloom is deepening where the sunlight was ; 
The flakes are falling faster now around ; 
Far off he hears a shrill, foreboding sound, 
And at its challenge makes another pause. 



134 IN AMBER LANDS 

A while irresolute, with anxious eye 
He gazes at the menace of the sky, 
And from its hue reluctant warning draws : 
The storm is nigh — he little dreams how nigh — 
When cursing his labor lost he turns to go 
Down again for shelter to the cabin far below. 

VI. 

Save your curses, man! You walk o'erbold! 
You go too slow and sullen down that path ! 
You may live and brave the coming wrath 
In those tumultuous clouds above you roll'd! 
Save your curses, man ! — for now you'll need 
Every breath your body has for speed; 
E'en now the air is struck with deathlier cold ; 
E'en now the foremost furious winds are freed; 
Look ! — look above you there at last, 
And see the Heavens whirling downward, vague and 
white and vast! 



VII. 

So — he knows ! — too late, alas, he knows 
His fierce pursuers, and with desperate leap 
Goes plunging madly down the uncertain steep — 
Down for his life ! Frantic now, he throws 
His dragging pack away — his senses swim 
With swift descent — the storm's o'ertaking him — 
The drift in stinging clouds around him blows 
To make him gasp and choke — his eyes grow 
dim — 



IN AMBER LANDS 135 

Unto his very bones the cold he feels; — 
But down and down that fatal Pass, tho' dazed, he 
leaps and reels ! 

VIII. 

Far up the Chilcoot Heights ! The storm is on : 
He's struggling still, but now he's lost the trail, 
And all his sturdy muscles flag and fail, 
'Mid swirling snow, to shapes fantastic drawn 
That pass like endless fleeing ghosts ; and each, 
In passing, seems to hiss at him and reach 
Long throttling fingers out; sight is gone, 
For his eyes see only white ; hark ! the screech 
Of Arctic winds swift leaping from the sky 
Down like the souls of famish'd wolves — "Oh, Annie, 
lass ! — good-by ! 

IX. 

"For now Fm play'd right out — I'm freezing 

fast— 
I'm on the spot where Fll forever lie. 
Just when I thought my chance had come — ► 

good-by ! 
Good-by ! my life is over now and past ! 
And it's been no use, tho' I've tried everywhere 
To do the best I could, and do it square. 
God's kept his grudge against me to the last, 
And I've stood it now so long, I hardly care ! 
Let Him finish me up, right here, if He likes, and 

hurl 
What's left of me to Hell ! — But you ! — O Annie — my 

orphan girl !" 



136 IN AMBER LANDS 

X. 

White, white, white — all 'round 'tis white — 
Blind white and cold ; — unheard is hurl'd 
His last appeal 'gainst this relentless World: 
No rescue now may come — no swift respite : 
The minutes of his life are almost o'er. 
He knows it well ; — see, he moves no more ! 
Body and soul can make no further fight, 
Bewilder'd in the blizzard's maddening roar; 
But he's facing it — he's standing rigid there — 
Defying Heaven's utmost wrath in reason-rack'd de- 
spair ! 

XI. 

"Blow, then, damn you — blow ! You've taken all ! 
You — whatever Thing you are that hears — 
You've never once let up on me for years ! 
You've stript me stark and bare as a wooden doll ! 
And there's not a rag of comfort left! You've 

blown 
Every joy and every hope I've known 
Roughly from my life ! And when I fall, 
You'll howl above me, dying here alone! 
Pile on — pile on, with your blasted, strangling 

snow ! 
You can take no more but my life now ! Blow, then ! 

damn you — blow !" 

XII. 

White, white, white, — unceasing white! 
See ! he totters, yielding to his doom — 



IN AMBER LANDS 137 

The snow hath ready made his shroud and tomb : 
But what is that ? There breaks a sudden light 
That startles him to last delirious cries ; — 
Pinnacled athwart the awful skies, 
Behold a treasure-lode, uncovered bright 
In transient glory to his dying eyes ! 
On a towering peak the sunset clouds unroU'd, 
And he's gasping at the cruel splendor — ''Gold — 
gold — gold !" 

XIII. 

Far up the Chilcoot Heights ! A prostrate form, 
Half buried now and motionless, doth lie 
All free of pain — and, happily, to die. 
Listen ! He's muttering thro' the passing storm : 
"Home again, Annie — home again ! 
God ! but it's restful — after that rattling train ! 
It's all so still and sunny here — and so warm ! 
How was it I came so soon? I can't explain — 
Only I know I'm home ; and oh ! it seems 
Too good to be true ! Doesn't it, lass ? And it's finer 
than all my dreams ! 



XIV. 

"You've grown so pretty since I've been away- 
So tall and pretty — I almost seem to see 
Your mother smiling there again at me. 
Just like she look'd upon her wedding day ! — 
A year before they laid her 'neath the grass, 
And left me only you, my little lass ! 



138 IN AMBER LANDS 

Come closer to me — things grow dull and gray ; — 
My eyes were hurt in a blizard on the Pass 
The year I went away and left you, Pet ! 
What's making it dark so early, Annie? Surely it's 
not night yet? 



XV. 

"Oh! well — no matter! Whatever time it be, 
I'm one of the lucky ones, I've made my pile, 
And I'm going to take it easy for a while. 
No more work or worry now for me ; 
I've lots of gold — as yellow as your curls ; 
And I'll dress you fine again like the other girls, 
And get you everything you want — you'll see ! 
A ring like mother had — and a collar of pearls ; — 
And I'll buy — I'll buy the old home back — that 
they sold ! 
But it's made your Daddy old, dear — it's made him 
feel so old! 



XVI. 

"Yes, I hear you laughing at me now I 

But oh ! it's good to hear you laugh again ! 

To have you near and have you laugh — and then, 

I must look kind of funny, I'll allow ; 

These clothes of mine are all so patch'd and 

queer ! 
But I'll have better ones to-morrow, dear; — 
And I know you love your old Dad, anyhow ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 139 

I feel so tired, I think I'll sleep just here: — 
Kiss me, Annie ! — there — good night, my lass !" 
God rest the souls of the dead who lie on the Heights 
of the Chilcoot Pass ! 



I40 IN AMBER LANDS 



CACTUS. 

I've wandered over Western plains where naught 

Of moving life will choose itself a home, 

Save creatures of grotesque or hateful breed, 

Rattlesnakes and hairy tarantulas, 

And red-rock lizards, with their kindred huge, 

The gila-monsters, whose envenom'd breath 

Shrivels the crawling centipede, they say, 

And curls in death the silent scorpion 

E'er he can sting, yet passes o'er unharm'd 

The horned toads that slumber 'mid the sands 

There glimmering hot beneath the rainless skies. 

And yet upon those plains so desolate 
No spear of grass for any season comes, 
Where e'en the arid sage-brush ventures not. 
Those plants uncouth I've seen that clearly show 
Nor stem nor leaf, but structur'd all in one, 
Perennial grow in rooted shapes perverse 
As ever Dante dreamed or Dore drew. 

Some tall as palms rear cloven pinnacles 
Proudly through the torrid atmosphere; 
And some like mimic reptiles spread and sprawl 
Their prickly arms along the parched ground. 
Some squat and round, and deckt with hoary hair. 
Dwell hermit-like among the sunset rocks, 



IN AMBER LANDS 141 

Or lean above the canon's beetling verge, 
Where down — sheer dov^n a thousand feet below — 
The twilight green is fleckt with paUid foam 
Flung from the rapid Rio as it rolls 
Between abysmal walls outrageously. 

And thus in regions dry and damnable 
They hold the juice of life, well armed about 
With myriad thorns like bayonets at the charge, 
Lest any luckless beast upon these wilds 
From them should seek precarious sustenance. 
And some do keep within themselves a cool 
Sweet reservoir of waters, gathered up 
In those brief seasons when relenting skies 
Resolve at last the roaring thunder clouds 
In sudden, unrestrained relief to rain. 
But for them all there comes a time of bloom. 
When their distorted bodies wake and thrill. 
And feel within themselves a revelling 
Of splendid passion culminate at last 
In wealth of gorgeous blossoms. Nonchalant 
They dance and flirt with every passing breeze. 
And riot 'mid the spiny bayonets 
Like odalisques, luxuriant to fill 
With Orient odor and high carnival 
Those waste and unaccustom'd solitudes. 

Some lift a scarlet glory to the sun, 
While all day long their golden stamens sw^ell 
With velvet pollen, drifting o'er their mate 
Until her last desire be satisfied. 



142 IN AMBER LANDS 

Some, virgin-like, await the veiled hours 

Of one long chosen eve, when pure and pale 

With perfect rapture they at length unfold 

Their loveliness beneath the Southern stars, 

And all exhaust in one voluptuous night 

The yearned-for bliss, perchance, of patient years. 

E'en so, those quenchless, isolated sparks 
Of that recurrent fire that men call Life 
In such odd guise do there express themselves. 
With virtues individual and rare. 

In all that valiant fibre what's involved? 
God knows ! But surely Character, whose vim 
Will hold thro 'every shape that bodies it 
In striving up the stony tracts of Time. 

Let that be as it wih ! But I have known 
Some fellows of my own so gifted with 
A like persistent faith they would extract 
From circumstance to wither other hearts 
A very elixir of faith and hope. 

And so I call to mind an old-time friend: 

A granite Presbyterian he was. 

Of thorny doctrine and contracted creed, 

Whose soul as in a desert pitiless 

Dwelt far removed from pleasant ways of men, 

Despair'd for deeds that he had never done, 

And fear'd all things beneath the brassy skies 

Foredoom'd unto Inevitable Hell. 



IN AMBER LANDS 143 

Yet there were times — we ne'er could tell for why — 

When o'er his dour old face would fall a glint 

Of sunny humor and of transient peace. 

As if his straiten'd soul, in very stress 

Of its own native sweetness, had put forth 

Some fair quaint flower to bloom incongruous 

Upon the barren branches of his faith. 

E'en such a time it seem'd to me when once 

In San Francisco, years ago, I stroU'd 

With him along the water front and saw 

A drunken sailor on a sudden halt 

Before a wounded cur that yelping lay 

Upon the road. No passer-by took heed. 

But, muttering words of maudlin sympathy. 

The sailor stoop'd unsteadily and caught 

The mongrel creature in his arms. At once 

It stopt its cries, and, in brute gratitude, 

'Gan lick the fellow's foolish bearded face, 

While he, flinging a customary curse or two 

Upon the jeering urchins of the street, 

Stagger'd from our sight with his new charge : 

A homeless, worthless pair, whether they sought 

The refuge of some dingy lodging house, 

Or forecastle of some tramp merchantman, 

Or tarry little schooner on the bay. 

But my dour friend look'd after, as in doubt, 
Bewilder'd to approve that nondescript 
Haphazard deed whose vagrant influence 
Yet warm'd his aged heart like rare good wine: 
Then, smiling, murmur'd slowly to himself: 



144 IN AMBER LANDS 

"Ah, Tarn — I'm maybe thinkin', lad, that yon 
Poor vagabond Samaritan and a' 
Wee feckless dogs and daftlike sailormen 
Maun no stop aye in Hell — nor no for long!" 
And tho' he said no more I felt the glow 
Of white compassion that encompass'd him; 
A radiance straight from some eternal shrine 
Beyond the bounds of aught his creed confess^. 

I had another friend of different sort : 
Gentle born and led in luxury 
Thro' childhood's days, life open'd fair until 
Death robb'd him of the friends he needed most, 
And faithless guardians left him penniless. 
Yet early for himself an envied place 
Above the shrewd competing throng he gained 
On one great city's mart, where sweeps the tide 
And traffic of her richest merchandise. 
And if he dream'd of riches then his dreams 
Were founded well. But other things he dream'd. 
For in his blood was more than bargaining, 
And he had soul too great to hold himself 
Penurious on the road to mean success. 
The days went by. And so it was that in 
That rosy-vision'd time — the June of youth — 
When all things beckon'd him, he thought he found 
One woman's face more fair than all his dreams — 
One woman's heart beyond the price of gold. 
Alas ! When to another's arms she went, 
Loveless 'mid all lovely circumstance. 
The star that lit the perfect way for him 



IN AMBER LANDS 145 

Went darkly out, and from the waste of years 

His promis'd happiness forever pass'd, 

Like as a momentary bright mirage 

Pictur'd on an endless wilderness. 

And tho' he went undaunted through all lands, 

Grappling with a perverse destiny, 

Everywhere the way to him was barr'd, 

And everywhere he found a harder lot : 

It seem'd as Fate a single vengeance wreak'd 

On him for follies of a score of lives. 

Yet when he came amongst us in the West, 

Altho' his shaggy hair was streakt with gray. 

He spoke like some fresh-hearted, plucky boy, 

Ready for new adventure anywhere. 

A surly, thwarted, hopeless set we were, 

Stranded in that barren mining camp, 

But soon for him we found a welcome place, 

Won over by the wholesome, cheery way 

He settled down to that rough life of ours. 

He work'd with me a wasted season through 

Upon the poorest claim of one poor creek, 

With temper cool and even all the while, 

And when I had no heart to sing he'd sing 

And twang on his old banjo by the fire 

To drive away the loneliness of night ; 

He had the knack somehow to make me feel 

That any luck was good enough for us, 

That with it all a man could be a man. 

And come up smiling from the hardest blow 

That Fate knew how to give. Poor old Jack! 

We loved him for his sunny, careless ways. 



146 IN AMBER LANDS 

And there was no better fellow in the West ! 
The fever 'twas that took him off at last, 
And in the shifting sands we buried him. 
We roll'd a boulder there to mark his grave, 
And on it scrawl'd his name and when he died. 
But made no show of service over him, 
For there was no man of us could say a word. 
Yet when the rest had gone I linger'd still, 
And sat upon that old, striated stone 
To stare in stolid mood against the West, 
Wherein the ruddy Sun had sunken low:— - 
Sat brooding on the tangle of our Hves, 
That seem so gone awry and objectless, 
Till out of the wreck of unrelated things 
One of the moments came that come to me 
Drifting loose from Time, and wonderful 
With alien fragrance and Elysian airs, 
While absently I mutter'd words of him. 
Witless for all I know — but no one knows : 
"His drowsy spirit dreams of me," I said, 
"Among the outer glades of Paradise !" 
And I arose, yet ere I went away, 
Upon that grave, for lack of better thing, 
I planted cactus for a covering. 



IN AMBER LANDS 147 



TO WALT WHITMAN. 

I. 
Hello there, Walt! 
Out of sight on the old Highway 
I hear your song: 

I hear the words that you have said for me: 
I, a sayer of words, sing out hello to you : 
And you are not so very far ahead but you will hear 
my words also. 

II. 
Words, Walt, words! 
Your words, anybody's words, and the words of the 

rolling Worlds ! 
But under all the one Word never utter'd. 

III. 
O Comrade mine ! 

Accepting all, eager for all, taking no denial! 
Love shines in you, through you, from you, 
Splendid as the Sun ! 

IV. 

eagle-eyed! O Titan-heart! 

1 look with you to the heights of old philosophies : 



148 IN AMBER LANDS 

Looking above and beyond them, shouting ahoy 
To wonders weaving out of Wonder endless in the 
still Eterne. 



V. 

But mostly, Walt, 

I w^atch you saunter down with huge rejoicing tread 

Tramping America : 

Mixing with crowded Manahatta : 

Swinging an axe in the Oregon forests : 

Bellowing songs to the Sea 



VI. 

For all your rant and brag about your States — who 

cares ? 
But the coming of the lilacs, 
And the call of mating birds. 
And the smell of June, with its berries, 
And the feel of the harvest air, 
And supple-bodied youth, and clean red blood, and 

the ripe white quiver of the grown girl's breast, 
And all the easy common joys of Life to be had for 

the asking, 
The beautiful, bountiful flow of things in every land — 

simple, copious, unrestrain'd forever, 
The sky and the stars and the winds of God, and the 

lovely faces behind the masque of Death, — 
For chanting these my hat goes off to you, 
Old stalwart out of days primeval, 
Earth-born and generous! 



IN AMBER LANDS 149 

VII. 

Down South : 

And the tide is coming in : 

I watch you fishing from the edge of the old dock : 

And a nigger sitting by you in the sunshine : 

I Hsten to your lazy chat : 

Careless there, happy, smoking a corncob pipe ; 

Blowing blue incense into the round blue sky: 

Calling it all divine. 

VIII. 

but the Ocean play'd great tunes for you in octaves 

run too deep 
For your tin-ear'd contempories to hear ! 

IX. 

1 tell you, Walt, 

This World lies sick for want of men like you: 
More glorious vagabonds and clean barbarians: 
Monarchs of Life in the making: 
Who find the tracks of God on all sides round, 
And understanding not at all yet laugh content, 
Confident as any babe that sees itself 
Mirror'd in its mother's eyes. 

X. 

Here's to you, Walt ! 

To you and all good tramps of Adam following! 

Free, fresh, savage ! 

Afoot on the open Road ! 

Taking the trail of the great Companions. 



150 IN AMBER LANDS 



XI. 



Comrades, ever comrades! 
What other words to say! 
Comrades, ever comrades, 
On the old Highway ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 151 



LONE WOLF LAMENT. 



Drink if you will to happy days 

And things to be — but say, 
Where are the fellows I used to know? 

Where are my friends to-day? 

Wow ! Hear me howl ! 
For Shad and Pete and George and Jack 
Who took the long trail and left no track; 
Oh ! never a one of them all comes back. 

And the winter-time is here! 

Wow ! Hear me howl 1 
For Olive and June and white Irene, 
And the Mexican Kid and little Corinne ; 
Daughters of joy who have not been seen 

This many and many a year ! 
I'm a lone old wolf, and I've lost my pack, 

And the winter-time is here : 
Wow ! Hear me howl ! 

II. 

Many are gay and many are fair, 
And some still come at my call : 

But IVe gone lame, and can run no more, 
So what's the use of it all ? 



152 IN AMBER LANDS 

Wow! Hear me howl! 
For Shad and Pete and George and Jack 
Who took the long trail and left no track : 
Oh ! never a one of them all comes back, 

And the winter-time is here! 

Wow ! Hear me howl ! 
For Olive and June and white Irene, 
And the Mexican Kid and little Corinne : 
Daughters of joy who have not been seen 

This many and many a year ! 
I'm a lone old wolf and I've lost my pack, 

And the winter-time is here: 
Wow ! Hear me howl ! 



III. 

I dream'd last night I ran with them 

Under a gold-red sky, 
Where the mountains rose from the green prairie — 

And I woke and wisht to die. 



Wow! Hear me howl! 
For Shad and Pete and George and Jack 
Who took the long trail and left no track : 
Oh! never a one of them all comes back, 

And the winter-time is here ! 

Wow ! Hear me howl ! 
For Olive and June and white Irene, 
And the Mexican Kid and little Corinne: 
Daughters of joy who have not been seen 

This many and many a year ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 153 

I'm a lone old wolf and I've lost my pack. 
And the winter-time is here ! 
Wow ! Hear me howl ! 

IV. 

Drink if you will, and drink on me ! 

But this is the toast I give : 
Live hard with your pack and live yourselves out — 

Then ask no more to live. 

Wow ! Plear me howl ! 
For Shad and Pete and George and Jack 
Who took the long trail and left no track: 
Oh ! never a one of them all comes back, 

And the winter-time is here! 

Wow ! Hear me howl ! 
For Olive and June and white Irene, 
And the Mexican Kid and little Corinne: 
Daughters of joy who have not been seen 

This many and many a year ! 
Tm a lone old wolf and I've lost my pack, 

And the winter-time is herek 
Wow ! Hear me howl ! 



154 IN AMBER LANDS 



CHINATOWN CHANT. 



I go down to Dupont Street 

See my very good friend: 
I have something good to eat 

With my very good friend : 
Feel dambkie and want some fun, 
Play fantan with Wun Fat Bun, 
He think me just Number One, 

He my very good friend. 

Yim poi — I no care! 

Yim poi — you no care, 
Sometime good time alia time maybe! 
We no care — yim poi 1 

II. 

Hello, how do, come in, sit down ! 

You my very good friend! 
You come best place in Chinatown, 

You my very good friend ! 
Too much cold and rain in street. 
You look sick, me stand you treat. 
Fix up something good to eat 

For my very good friend. 



IN AMBER LANDS 155 

Yim poi — I no care! 
Yim poi — you no care, 
Sometime good time alia time maybe! 
We no care — yim poi! 



III. 

S*pose you like some extra-dry. 

You my very good friend: 
S'pose you like some mo-goo-gai, 

You my very good friend ! 
Fine chop-suey, guy-see-ming, 
Bamboo-stick in chicken-wing, 
Mushroom stew with everything 
For my very good friend. 

Yim poi — I no care! 
Yim poi — you no care, 
Sometime good time alia time maybe ! 
We no care — yim poi! 



IV. 

Plenty eat and plenty drink 
For my very good friend! 
You stay here all night I think, 

You my very good friend ! 
I lock fast big outside door, 
Have best time you had before, 
Sing-song girlie come some more 
For my very good friend. 



156 IN AMBER LANDS 

Yim poi — I no care ! 
Yim poi — you no care, 
Sometime good time alia time maybe! 
We no care — yim poi ! 

V. 

Sing-song girlie dance for you, 

Sing, my very good friend ! 
No more now you feel damblue, 

Sing, my very good friend ! 
Too much drink and too much fun 
Just enough for Number One, 
You know nothing when you done, 
O my very good friend ! 

Yim poi — I no care ! 
Yim poi — you no care, 
Sometime good time alia time maybe! 
We no care-T-yim poi ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 157 



RED LAUGHTER. 

Glory be, the corner is turn'd, 

And we've given the slip to the slim Hoodoo! 
Come, Moriarty, I think we've earn'd 

The right to loaf, don't you? 
Our score is paid, and we've money galore, 
Enough to last us a month or more, 

And never a thing to do ! 
You're hungry you say ? Well I am too, 
But stroll this way for half a mile, 
Sure the sun is good this afternoon, 
Good for a pasty-faced gossoon. 

Like you, d'ye hear, Moriarty ! 
Aye, 'tis a blessed afternoon 
For you, you prison-faced gossoon ! 
I'm talking too loud? Go on — go on! 

I know what I'm doing I tell you! 
There's none in this town that we're frighten'd to meet 

And I'm not the sort that would sell you. 
But you're hungry you say — you want to eat ? 
Well, I'm at home on Easy Street, 
And I'll show you a tavern to your taste — 

To your taste, d'ye hear, Moriarty ! 

j|c :}t jji ;(i ;j{ ^ ^. 

Aw, take your time, boy, what's the haste? 
There, where you see that ugly baste 
Ayont the Barbecue, 



158 IN AMBER LANDS 

Where the lettering is half erased, 

'Twas gold when it was new. 
Make out that name there if you can 
With your cock-eye : The Black-and-Tan: 
That's it : 'tis kept by a Mexican, 

And that's where we dine, Moriarty ! 
It has a long deep-rafter'd room 
In the Mission style ; 'tis a man's room. 
And sure you'll like this Mexican, 
A fellow to follow a light amour, 
A picaroon and a troubadour, 

Much of your sort, Moriarty ! 

* ^ ;|c Hj * * ■* 

Hey, Miguel ! Come hear me tell 

This hungry friend of mine 
How this place of yours is for epicures 
Who like a shady place to dine ! 
See this long deep-rafter'd room. 
Half alight and half in gloom, 
And yonder a cactus red in bloom. 

Just to your taste, Moriarty! 
Somehow it puts me in mind of Yvette : 
You remember — little Yvette? 
Will you ever forget that night when she trackt us 
Into the old wSavoy, and cried 
For us to take her East again, 
And we hadn't the price — and then — and then — 
All right, Miguel, by the window here : 
That horrible rope — it turns me queer 
To think of it yet — poor little Yvette — 

She always was fond of a cactus ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 159 

Yes, beer, Moriarty, beer! 
Then order whatever you wish — a dish 

Of chowder, perhaps a sole; 
But of things come far and things come near 
I fancy an onion omelette 

With bacon on the side ! 
Or what d'ye say to a steak Creole 

With a sweet potato fried? 

You like these things done Spanish, 

And it isn't a Friday yet; 
New raisins then and a pint of port 
To finish on ; they say 'tis good 
To iron the blood of a broken sport, 

And they keep it here in the wood. 
Oh ! very well, you know your cue ! 
Yes, that will be all, Miguel, thank you, 

But see that 'tis hot and Spanish! 
And now while I roll me a cigarette 

Tune up that old guitar 

And sing while we wait, Moriarty ! 
Sing new songs, and sing till you banish 
Out of my brain this vain regret; 

Sure that's what you're for, Moriarty! 
Sing new songs to that old guitar 
Of things come near and things come far. 
While I forget, forget, forget. 
Watching the rings from my cigarette 

Rise to the rafters and vanish ! 

* -'^ -!-- * ^ * * 

Watching the rings ! How each of them alters ! 
Each of them alters and alters — and alters — 



i6o IN AMBER LANDS 

Moriarty! — see — they're swinging like halters 
Just over our heads as they climb! 
And after — and after — and after — 
Christ ! hear that devilish laughter — 
That devilish gurgle and laughter ! 
And there ! — see there how each rafter 

Is red — dripping red all the time ! 

^ i^ -^ it -^ ^ 

No, no, Miguel — I'm well, man — I'm well ! 

My nerves that's all — 'tis passing — this spell 

Moriarty can tell — there's nothing to tell ! 

Roll me another cigarette, 

And sing, damn you ! Sing and forget 
That laughter — red laughter — hereafter! 



IN AMBER LANDS i6i 



THE MOONLIT WHEAT. 

I. 

love of mine ! amid the moonlit wheat 
Of harvest-fields how fair — how lily-sweet! 

1 saw thee stand and signal me alone 

To that untrodden vale that was thine own 

On that last night of all that we did meet, — 
O love of mine amid the moonlit wheat ! 

II. 

No thing within that region was astir; 

Entranc'd I saw it all as if it were 
The scenery of a dream wrought to express 
The longing of my heart, thy loveliness, 

And that unseen romance whose theatre 
Must be in regions where no thing's astir. 

III. 

Quaint and low, like some remote bassoon. 
Across the marsh there came a muffled croon, 

And all alone one melancholy frog, 

Squat on the butt of a sunken cedar log, 
Solemnly did serenade the Moon : — 

In tone so low and quaint — like the quaint bassoon. 



i62 IN AMBER LANDS 

IV. 

While in an elm-tree an oriole 

Triird out a rural evensong that stole 
In drowsy cadence from the upper air; — 

Love of mine ! in Eden unaware 
Some angel slept to let our spirits stroll, 

While o'er us sang that golden oriole. 

V. 

And far above the starlit skies unroll'd 
A spell of silence, and of things untold, 

That seal'd our lips ; the warm ripe wheat, caress'd 

By Zephyrs scented from the sultry West, 
Went rippling like a sea of pallid gold, — 

Under those starlit skies, so wide unroll'd. 

VI. 

But when I loos'd thy locks of yellow hair 

To curl and shimmer in the cooling air, 
Past coy denial, and virginal disguise, 

1 read the unutter'd secret in thine eyes 

Of all thou wouldst surrender to me there, — 
The while I loos'd thy locks of yellow hair. 



VII. 

And Time went by — and Time was naught to us 

Only our wistful hearts grew tremulous 
To hear the Zephyrs in sweet union sigh, 



IN AMBER LANDS 163 

While slowly in the fulness of the sky 

The lucent Moon herself sank amorous : — 
And Time went by — and Time was naught to us. 

VIII. 

Alas ! how now the serpent years unfold 

Sharp treacheries, and pangs unknown of old! 

Yet once to have had thee mine — once to have felt 

In thy caresses all my being melt 
To passion's last felicity, — I hold 

Worth every pang these serpent years unfold. 

IX. 

And oft I loose the gates of Memory 
To seek amid the uncertain scenery, 

Love of mine ! some vision of thee, pale 
Within the silence of a moonlit vale 

Where none may follow, and where none may 
see, — 
Beyond the darkling gates of Memory. 

X. 

1 am thy lover still, O Love of mine ! 

My heart shall never lose the fire of thine ; 
And tho' I bide in loneHness and pain. 
My soul shall hold her peace, and not complain. 

Trusting somehow, somewhere, these arms shall 
twine 
Round thy sweet self again, O Love of mine ! 



i64 IN AMBER LANDS 



FEY. 

I. 
Up from a sea that was Celtic, 

On a midsummer night of old, 
A fairy rose in the moonlight 

Where the swooning waters roll'd 
To a crag that was crown'd with a ci.^'stle, 

Irregular, round and high — 
The castle bold, embattled, 

Of days gone by. 

II. 

And a piper paced the ramparts 

In his own clan-tartan clad, 
With the ancient arms accoutred 

That his father's father had ; 
And the pipes that he play'd were chanting 

Of valor and Highland pride — 
To the tune of them kings had conquer'd, 

And heroes died. 

III. 

Tho' only a lad come twenty. 
He could hold with any man, 

And well was he taught in the music. 
And well could he lead his clan; 



IN AMBER LANDS 165 

And the gallant air he was playing 

He play'd as never before — 
Then he ceased and drevv trom its scabbard 

His bright claymore. 

IV. 

And he waved it aloft, exulting 

In the promise of coming years, 
And feats of arms and glory 

Got from the shock of spears ; 
Ah ! the glint of that jewell'd claymore 

That his father's father had — 
'Twill be handled with honor surely 

By that gay lad ! 

V. 

But O, my Bonnie, my Bonnie! 

What sound is this in thine ears, 
That no man nor maid in the castle 

Nor drousing warder hears? 
What music around thee is rising? 

Wliat Orient notes unknown? 
O out on the sea what is singing 

By the lone^-by the lone? 

VI. 

In a maze he listened unmoving 

Thro' the long sweet summer night 

To the song of the water-kelpie. 
Till the moon sank out of sight ; 



1 66 IN AMBER LANDS 

And the kitchen maids of the castle 

Found him, at break of day, 
As they thought, on the ramparts, drunken : 

He was fey — he was fey! 

VII. 

And the thrall of a lordly ambition. 

And the combat for lands and gold. 
And titles and trinkets of honor. 

And things that are bought and sold, 
Oh! thereafter he held them so lightly! 

But aye as he went on his way, 
Of a song he would be singing: 

He was fey — he was fey ! 

VIII. 

The chieftain of all most gentle, 

Most ready with loyal sword, 
But not in the years did he prosper, 

And he fail'd of the World's reward; 
His king gc.ve his lands to a stranger. 

And his lady was faithless, they say; 
And he died in a battle, forgotten — 

Well-a-day — well-a-day ! 



IX. 

Comes something akin to a feehng 
That no language of men can define, 

No to one in a million revealing 
Its meaning by symbol or sign. 



IN AMBER LANDS .167 

But told of in Sagas and olden 

Legends of longing and weir — 
A sound in a silence too golden 

For many to hear. 

X. 

Moments remote, unimagin'd, 

That come and go in a breath, 
Thro' the light of long days uneventful, 

In the pallor of imminent death; 
In the fire of some red revolution, 

Perchance in the tapers' shine 
On some extravagant altar, — 

Some say in wine. 

XI. 

No matter, if only — if only 

That sound from the silence it brings; 
That ray from the occult reunion 

Found in the finish of things; 
Unfitted thereafter, exalted. 

Uncaring, they pass among men, 
And the World, as they knew it, is never 

The same again. 

XII. 

Once, in the dull way of mortals, 

As I lay in a stupor, I felt, 
As I fancied, the palpable portals 

Of darkness commingle and melt 



i68 IN AMBER LANDS 

Away into somnolent gardens, 

Hidden forever from day : 
Ah ! from them I never would waken, 

Could I stay — could I stay ! 

XIII. 

Could I dream within arbors Lethean, 

Where the poppies that nod in the night 
Have yielded at last to the perfume 

Of roses enchantingly white ; 
Where Morphia lies, and her lore is 

Reveal'd, and her secrets are told 
In fragments of fathomless stories 

Forgotten of old ! 

XIV. 

O souls made fit for the losing 

Of all that the World implies. 
Yet who tread not the pathway of heroes, 

Nor of saints that agonize, 
What vision is this that you treasure 

Like children, until you are gray? 
Elusive, alluring forever, — 

You are fey — you are fey! 



IN AMBER LANDS 169 

IN AMBER LANDS. 
Fragments. 

I. 

In a luminous valley once I awoke 

To the sound of amber lutes; 
And I ate of the bread of a Romany folk, 
With elvish herbs and savory roots, 

And I drank of the innocent wines 
Made by their maidens from mandarin fruits 
Pluckt from low-lying luxurious vines 

In the somnolent heart of the valley. 

And the Romany folk have a simple creed : 
To make with their hands whatever they need. 

And to live and be kind in the Sun : 
To be one with the good brown Earth, and eat 
Good things the Sun has shone upon 

Till they be ripe and sweet: 
And watch the flocks meanwhile that feed 

In the blue up-lands of the valley. 

And aptly enough they sow and spin 

In manner of antique industry, 

And metals they mould and various glass 

And motley pottery, 
Taught by priests of a gentle class 



170 IN AMBER LANDS 

In league with pale high Powers, 
For whom they have builded singular towers 

In a grove of cypress trees, — 
Towers of granite and bronze, wherein 
Magic they make and medicine, 
Or busied with their dim auguries 
The hollows of space and cycles immense 
They measure with intricate instruments. 

But I mind how more it pleasur'd me 
In the drowsy grass for hours and hours 
To lie with the faintly conscious flowers, 

Far up on the slope of the valley ; 
Or run with the younger Romany folk. 

So handsome and sturdy they be. 
At play in a forest of maple and oak, 

A-romping healthily — 
A-romping unkempt and all at their ease, 
And kindly under the kindly trees 
Doing whatever and ever they please 

Consistent with courtesy. 

Oh in youth I sail'd unusual seas, 
And still I recall me lands like these, 
Where they do whatever they please, dear Lord, 
Whatever and ever they please! 



II. 

Roaming I met the gentle maid 
Whom forest-folk and hunters call 
The Chatelaine of Ronzival. 



IN AMBER LANDS 171 



'Twas under a clift* in the evesglade 
Where the icy waters bubble forth; 
In velvet green was she array'd 
After the fashion of the North : 
O gentle maid, for thy heart's ease 
Venture with me far over the seas ! 

There is a room in Ronzival 
Rich with bronze, and panell'd all 

In oak grown dull with time; 
About the lancet windows there 

Masses of ivy climb ; 
And some few roses, fair oh fair, 
Wave in the Northern summer air ! 

The Sun was sinking thro' the pines, 

While I was guest of the Chatelaine; 

Ruddily in slanting lines 

Thro' each lancet window-pane 

It lit the panell'd inner wall 

Of that room in Ronzival, 

With its bronze and quaint designs 

And stilted things armorial : 

O gentle maid, for thy heart's ease, 

Venture with me far over the seas ! 

At table by a window-seat 

The gentle maid sat long with me, 

And shyly of her courtesy 

She bade me drink and eat ; 
Out of a hammer'd silver dish 



172 IN AMBER LANDS 

She chose me cakes and comfits fine, 
From a twisted flagon dragonish 
She pour'd me amber wine. 

O gentle maid, our game is play'd, 
The dragon is calHng, calHng! — 
While over the cliffs in the everglade 

The lonely waters falling 
Blanch at the sound, and shiver afraid, — 

Aye, 'tis the dragon calling ! 

With chilling breath and bitter rime 
Cometh soon the winter-time : 
Ah, see how she has grown so frail. 
Her form so slight, her face so pale ! 
The hoary giants of Niffelheim 

Will take her craftily, 
And in a vault with marble stay'd, 
Where long-forgotten saints have pray'd, 
Her delicate body will be laid, 

Cover'd with greenery : 
WTile down the ragged silver steep 
Whore the gnomish waters creep 
Somnolent, sonorous, deep. 

With her ancient friends 
Lost to thee her soul shall sleep 

Till the legend ends ! 
Nay, gentle maid, for thy heart's ease, 
Venture with me far over the seas. 
And we shall go free of their wizard hands, 
Away and away in the x\mber Lands ! 



IN AMBER LANDS 173 

III. 
From Mozambique I sought Zambar 

On board an old felucca : 
And nigh the Mosque in the Moon Bazaar 

I got me a chanted hookah : 
Its outer bowl was all inscribed 
With golden demasceneries ; 
Themes I think to be founded on 
The amorous songs of Solomon, 

Or Paynim mysteries ; 
But the learned Moulah whom I bribed 

Gave me no meaning of these : 
Only, observing the courtesies, 
To me he show'd, while the fire in it glow'd, 

A manner of taking my ease ; 
From the worry of life, with its folly and strife, 

A marvellous good surcease. 
And the years have come, and the years have flown, 

But the hookah still hath power; 
And many a scintilating hour 
I win in the midst of miseries, 
Smoking aright in the manner unknown, 

Observing the courtesies. 
For then — oh the soul of me understands 
My ways lead into the Amber Lands, 
A vagabond here, if you please — among these — 
But a rover by right in the Amber Lands. 

I have my chanted hookah still. 

But now, when its fragrant bowl I fill. 

And its dreamful smoke I draw and blow, 



174 IN AMBER LANDS 

Watching it go — slow — so — 
Round and round the carbuncle glow — 
Oh ! then I remember things like these, 
How in youth I sail'd unusual seas, 

And I would a-roving go. 
I have my chanted hookah still, 
But the core of the world has not been seen, 
And lands unknown yet lie between 

The roots of Ygdrasil. 
And what of that garden Hesperides, 

Forgotten this long, long while? 
And the palmy cliffs of Hy-Brasil 

And good Saint Brendan's Isle? 
And they tell in Arabian histories 
Of venturings to ravish me. 
And delectable zones of heathenry 

Down under the Lost Indies ! 
But I — I would know of their verity, 

And to what each tale alludes, 
So I will again to the solitudes. 

And the winds I will be loving. 
And leave these weary latitudes 

And for the love of God go roving: 
For oh the soul of me understands 
My ways lead into the Amber Lands, — 
A vagabond here, if you please — among these- 
But a rover by right in the Amber Lands. 



IN AMBER LANDS 175 



YOLANA. 

I. 
There's a by-road the saints fear, 
And the wizards seek in vain; 
Ayont the day 'tis quite near, 
Yet the way of it is too queer 

For me to make it plain ; 
But we find our track by the Zodiac, 

Then a body parts in twain. 
And we be Hft in a mode to the mere 
Mass a madness vain, 
A dream or delusion vain. 

Yolana azne avie avie! 
Yolana vekana vor! 

II. 

But what and oh! what may the mass know 

Of the things that are done of us? 
On the round hill where we go 
To bide our time in the pale glow 

For Yolana marvellous? 
And visions evoke by sweet smoke 

And breathings tremulous? 
Nay, the sound of words may not show 

The things that are done of us — 

Remotely done of us ! 

Yolana aiie azie avie! 
Yolana vekana vor! 



176 IN AMBER LANDS 

III. 
A gold star in the West glow'd 
Thro' a night obscurely clear; 
'Twas the dry time when the winds bode 
Thro' the treetops, and the tree toad 

Answers eerily ; 
The dwarf came with the swart name 

A-whispering in my ear; 
And I nodded and took the by-road 
Thro' the night obscurely clear 
As a smoky-topaz is clear. 

Yolana avie avic avie! 
Yolana vekana vorf 

IV. 

Where the lone pine tree fiings 

A ragged shadow down 
We light the fire, and the dwarf sings 
To keep away the bad things 

That glimmer about and frown, 
As we mix the wine and make the sign 

They made in the sunken town : — 
Then oh ! a glory of light wings 

Bearing Yolana down ! 

Yolana avie avie avie! 
Yolana vekana vor! 

,v. 
But what and oh ! what may the mass know 

Of the things that are done of us? 
On the round hill where we go 



IN AMBER LANDS 177 

To slumber in the pale glow 

Of planets pendulous? 
And out of the skies materialize 

Yolana marvellous? 
Nay, the sound of words may not show 
The things that are done of us — 
Remotely done of us ! 

Yolana az'ic azne avie! 
Yolana vekana ?for! 

VI. 

Oh ! the twinkling stones of faery 

When Yolana comes! 
All set in the greenest jewelry, 
While the magic smoke goes bluely 

From the burning magic gums ! 
And we troll the chants in a ghost-dance 

To the monotone of drums, 
Till we lapse for sheer enchantery 

When Yolana comes! 

Yolana ame avie avie! 
Yolana vekana vor! 



178 IN AMBER LANDS 



UNDERGROUND. 



On a queer, queer journey 
I heard the queerest sound, — 

'Twas the Devil with a banjo 
In a cavern underground, 

Where the merry, merry skeletons 
Were waltzing round and round. 
While the clicking of their bones kept time. 

II. 

Thro' a low, iron door. 

With a huge iron bar, 
A door perchance some careless 

Imp had left ajar, 
I crept behind a column cut 

All out of Iceland spar, 
And the carven angles twinkled frostily. 

III. 

I was frighten'd of the Devil, 
And I wouldn't look at him. 

But I watch'd a thousand goblins 
From nook and cranny dim 



IN AMBER LANDS 179 

A-glowering on the skeletons, 
And every goblin grim 
And ugly as an old gargoyle. 

IV. 

And bogles play'd on fiddles 

To help the banjo out, 
For 'twas nothing but the music 

Kept alive that crazy rout; 
But the big green toads could 

Only hop about 
To the rumbling of the bass bassoon. 

V. 

Behind the Iceland column 

I watch'd them on the sly. 
Above them arch'd the cavern 

With its roof miles high, 
All ribb'd with blue rock-crystal, shining 

Bluer than the sky, 
And studded with enormous stalactites. 

VI. 

But the lovely floor below. 

With its level crystalline 
Splendid surface spreading 

Radiantly green ! — 
As if a lone, impearled lake 

Of waters subterrene 
Had frozen to a flawless emerald ! 



i8o IN AMBER LANDS 

VII. 

And down, down, down, 

Its moveless depths were clear; 

And down, down, down, 
In wonder I did peer 

At lost and lovely imagery 
Beneath me far and near, — 
Silent there and white forevermore. 

VIII. 

But from the sunken beauty 

Of that white imagery 
Lissome shadows loosen'd, 

Flame-like and fitfully, 
That form'd anon to spheres serene 

And mounted airily. 
And broke in golden bubbles thro' the floor. 

IX. 

There, bubble-like, they vanish'd 

Amid the whirling crew, 
Yet left a radiance trailing 

Slowly out of view, 
That sometimes o'er the skeletons 

Such carnal glamour threw. 
It flatter'd them to human shape again. 

X. 

How long I watch'd I know not; 

The weird hours went on. 
Lost hours that bring the midnight 



IN AMBER LANDS i8i 

No nearer to the dawn. 
When suddenly I felt a clutch, 
And swiftly I was drawn 
From out behind that carven block of spar. 

XI. 

My soul! — a skeleton! — 

A rattling little thing, 
Twined itself about me 

As close as it could cling ! 
And in its arms with horror I 

Perforce 'gan circling, 
Compell'd by that fantastic orchestra. 

XII. 

Onward swept the waltzers 

To the v/icked tunes they played. 

And soon we were amongst them. 
And my rattling partner sway'd 

When er the golden bubbles broke. 
And trailing lights array'd 
Elusively around its naked bones. 

XIII. 

A minute or an hour, — 

Or maybe half a night, — 
No matter, for at last 

I was over all my fright, 
And the music rippled through me till 

I shivered with delight. 
Fascinated like the fat green toads. 



i82 IN AMBER LANDS 

XIV. 

And by and by I noticed 

How 'mid that grisly swarm 
My clinging little partner 

'Gan strangely to transform, — 
I saw the bones as thro' a mist 

Of something pink and warm, 
That quiver'd and grew firm from top to toe. 

XV. 

Bright copper-color'd hair 
Soon round her head did curl, 

Her mouth grew sweet with tints 
Of coral and of pearl, 

And she looked on me with eyes that seem'd 
Of lambent chrysoberyl, 
While her body fair as alabaster shone. 

XVI. 

A witch she was so lovely, 

To all else I was blind, 
And the Devil and the Goblins 

And the Rout we left behind, 
In our wild waltz whirling on 

The cool sweet wind 
Of the lone lorn caverns underground. 

XVII. 

Like rose-leaves strewn 

Upon a crystal tide. 
Like thistle-down blown 



IN A.AIBER LANDS 183 

By Zephyrs far and wide, 
We swept in aimless ecstasy, 
Silent side by side. 
Careening thro' those caverns underground. 

XVIII. 

A minute or an hour^ — 

Or maybe half a night, — 
No way have I to measure 

The madness of that flight, 
For the loosen'd zone of witchery 

Made drunk with sheer delight, 
Till we sank in happy stupor to the floor. 

XIX. 

Nearby there was a grotto 

That open'd chapel- wise. 
As from a rich cathedral 

In sacrilegious guise; 
On the high Masonic altar were 

Three crystal chalices, 
And they held the sweetest poisons Hell can brew. 

XX. 

One was a liquor golden 

That sparkled like the dew, 
One was a wine that trembled. 

And blood-red was its hue. 
But the last Lethean elixir 

Was dark as night, shot through 
With glimmerings of green and violet. 



i84 IN AMBER LANDS 

XXI. 

Then rose the witch and mutter'd, 
"Quick, for the hour is late ! 

Quick ere the music ceases 

And the locks of the dungeons grate 

O'er the host of haunted skeletons 
That here brief revel make ! 
Come free me by this altar's alchemy! 

XXII. 

"Drink thou the golden liquor 
That lights yon jewell'd rim, — 

That sparkles, fair as sunshine 
On curls of seraphim! 

Drink for the love I gave thee ! 
Or drink for a devil's whim ! 
But pledge me to the time that yet shall be ! 

XXIII. 

"But the gloomy elixir 
Give me, that I may sleep 

With the white wraiths that slumber 
In the dim green deep I 

Where the silence of the under-world 
Shall wrap me round and keep 
My soul untouch'd by any dreams of day 1'* 

XXIV. 

I drank the cup of sunshine, 

She. drank the cup of night, 
But the red we spill'd between us 



IN AMBER LANDS 185 

For sacrifice and plight 
Of passion that must centre in 
The sphereless Infinite 
Ere her sweet Hfe shall mix with mine again. 

XXV. 

A moment all her beauty 

Was lighten'd as with fire, 
Her fair voluptuous body 

With its trailing, loose attire, 
And her eyes to mine did glow as in 

A sunset of desire, — 
Then prone she fell upon the chapel floor. 

XXVI. 

And the white flesh wasted from her 

As she was falling dead. 
Her very bones had crumbled, 

Ere one farewell I said, — 
From sight of that dire sorcery 

In wild dismay I fled, 
Seeking madly for the low iron door. 

XXVII. 

Behind the Iceland column 

I found it still ajar, — 
Thro' galleries of darkness 

I travell'd swift and far, 
lUntil I reach'd the upper-world 

And saw the morning star 
Paling o'er a meadow by the sea. 



i86 IN AMBER LANDS 



JILL. 

I. 

Doctor, I want to be out of this : 
There is no play nor profit here; 
'Tis all so drab-color'd and queer; 
For things outworn or things I wish 
Life now is stale, now feverish, — 
I cannot sleep. 

II. 

A burden on my heart is lain 
Of thin, delirious desires; 
I feel the flash of eerie fires 

In the cloudy opal of my brain; 

I wish I knew some medicine 
To cure it all. 



III. 

There was a girl named Jill I met 
Vacation time at Juniper ; 
And I was like a boy with her 

That never cared for woman yet ; 

I mind how in the red sunset 
She caird to me. 



IN AMBER LANDS 187^ 

IV. 

Among the hills I heard her sing, 

And in glad mood I went to her; 

I thought the emerald glimmer 
Of her slant eyes a magic thing; 
Some oddness in her raimenting, 
Some fashion old. 

V. 

Just a touch on a simple gown 
Of the silk of some past dynasty, 
And she wore a collar of lace quaintly 

At her tan throat ; her hair was down ; 

Her lithe young arms were bare and brown : 
I worship'd her. 

VI. 

Oh, she was a wholesome hoyden, Jill; 
The savor of her lips to me 
Was sweet as a late wild strawberry 

Found large and red on a sunburnt hill ; 

And I yielded to her pretty will 
And waywardness. 

VII. 

Give me the fine cool touch of her ! 

I've had my fill of sweets and sours 

With merry lovers of late hours, 
But little now my pulses stir 
For banqueting or theatre, 
Or rich carouse. 



'i88 IN AMBER LANDS 

VIII. 

To be the mate of such a lass 

Were better than the best of these; 
UnfaiHng as the field daisies, 

And clean and constant as the grass; 

Such pleasure as a plowman has 

Give me for mine! 

IX. 

Who will may wine and women prize; 
Fd follow you up any hill 
For just a pail of wateY, Jill, 
And the right to look in your slant eyes 
Till life grew strong and sane and wise 
For me again. 

X. 

A burden on my heart is lain 

Of thin, deHrious desires; 

I feel the flash of eerie fires 
In the cloudy opal of my brain ; 
I wish I knew some medicine 
To cure it all. 

XI. 

Oh, if I could hear her sing 

As 'mong the hills at Juniper 

I think this pestilent fever 

Would pass like vapor scattering 

Before a breeze, or else something 

Be fine as that! 



IN AMBER LANDS 189 

XII. 

For even just to think of her 

Is grateful to me as the prime 

Glory of the morning-time ; 
A memory in lavender 
Of youth foot-loose in a wide summer 
She is to me. 

XIII. 

Doctor, I want to be free, I guess ; 
Free to go once more to her 
Among the hills in the white clover 

And yield to her cool waywardness; 

Twould cure me of this dull sickness. 
And I would sleep. 

XIV. 

Yes, I would sleep with a sleep supreme 
Till all that frets me now were gone ; 
And I would wake in a young fashion 
To healthy joys of hill and stream, 
And no dame or maid of all I'd deem 
To equal Jill. 

XV. 

For handsome she is in the hill-country : 
Set in her sunbrown'd face slant-wise. 
Doctor, she has green glorious eyes ; 

Oh, if I were only free. 

If I could rise of God's mercy 
And go to her ! 



190 IN AMBER LANDS 

XVI. 

But a burden on my heart is lain 
Of thin, delirious desires ; 
I feel the flash of eerie fires 

In the cloudy opal of my brain; 

I wish I knew some medicine 
To cure it all. 



IN AMBER LANDS 191 



BROKEN DAYS. 

I. 
I mind no more, nor care to understand, 
Those dull brutalities too long endured ; 
I only thought of work as I came forth 
Most fitted to my convalescent hand ; 
Of old ambitions haply I am cured. 
This city builded nobly in the North 
Affords me refuge from an outworn land. 

II. 

Somewhile I drifted without any plans, 

And found no place until this night work came 

For words mispelt and letters gone askew 

In the rigmarole the glum proof-reader scans. 

I've now good lodging of a simple dame 

In a cottage rustic where all else is new 

On a quiet street of decent artizans. 

III. 
I wonder what she was at seventeen, 
This landlady of mine so wither'd now 
With three score round of years. Her cheeriness 
Overcomes her poverty and wadow'd mien; 
She treasures little things, and tells me how 
She keeps the fashion of her Sabbath dress, — 
Her velvet bonnet and silk grenadine. 



192 IN AMBER LANDS 

IV. 

Her cottage has a wholesome atmosphere 
Of golden thyme and rue and mignonette ; 
It seems from days too secular withdrawn, 
A place to meditate, or in austere 
Clean solitude to sleep and to forget 
The inevitable ache of things forgone; 
'Twas surely some good fairy led me here. 

V. 

My room is high and bare ; a window shows 
A maple tree without where sparrows keep 
In constant parlement ; the other looks 
Blankly 'gainst a wall ; that one I close. 
To ease my soul I laid upon a heap 
Of long unopen'd Calvinistic books 
The splendid contradiction of a rose. 

VI. 

As some be curious in choice of wines 

From wattled bottles and monastic jugs, 

Or crusted kegs in roguish cellars hid, 

So I've been fond with many anodynes, 

Most dopy sirops and oblivious drugs, 

To baffle pain and droop the uneasy lid. 

And loose the soul from all its rough confines. 

VII. 

But now to wines or drugs I give no thought, 
Nor seek relief as in my evil day 
When evil things conspir'd to batter me 



IN AMBER LANDS 193 

Until with stress and anguish overwrought 
I think some rampart of my brain gave way; 
For in the truce of this pale apathy 
The past appears a dream — the future naught. 

VIII. 

In a grimy office of the Daily Blink 

A reader's desk is set apart for me, 

And there at night I work from eight till four 

The wage is fair, with little need to think; 

In automatic way unerringly, 

Tho' but a novice, I correct and score 

The acrid galleys rank with printer's ink, 

IX. 

A cozy creamerie they call the Star 
At one o'clock I visit hungrily, 
For rolls and coffee and a bowl of soup ; 
The place is spotless kept, and popular 
With sober night-hawks dining frugally; 
Me they class there with a favor'd group — 
Good fellows all as printers always are. 

X. 

'Tis well nigh dawn before I find my bed 

Where everything is clean prepared for me. 

A monoplane of dreams w4th wings unfurl'd 

I fancy it, the pillow 'neath my head, 

As smoothly up some vast acclivity 

In spreading spiral ways I leave the World; 

Of it and all things over-wearied. 



194 IN AMBER LANDS 

XI. 

Luxurious I sleep the morning through, 

Or lie awake, inert, with kzy eyes 

Fixt on the bars of light that slip between 

The close green-shutter'd window^s palely blue. 

And under no compulsion yet to rise, 

And with no mordant thought to intervene, 

I doze and dream alternately till two. 

XII. 

And day by day thus unconcern'd I live, 

Forgetting former things that did me wrong; 

Thankful for this safe obscurity, 

And glad for the added comfort I can give 

One poor old woman who has lived too long; 

Of late I find her growing motherly, 

And in her harmless way inquisitive. 

XIII. 

She wonders much at me and at my ways ; 

I am to her a man of mystery, 

Because I breakfast in the afternoon. 

But pleased she always is to have me praise 

Her toast and marmalade and good black tea ; 

And the porridge bowl, and her last silver spoon. 

Worn thin with usage since Victorian days. 

XIV. 

And in that hour of other times she talks ; 
Once this cottage w^as the Manse, she says, 
And the city reach'd not here to bar at all 



IN AMBER LANDS 195 

The Minister from his long evening walks ; 
It vexes her to see brick terraces 
Nov^ crowding 'gainst the very garden wall 
Where still his sunflowers grow, and hollyhocks. 

XV. 

Yestermom with plaintive roundelay 
Came to our street the hurdy-gurdy man; 
The wheeling melody of his machine 
Gave color to my dreaming as I lay, 
Remote as some Tibetan caravan, 
Or marvel once of Marco Polo seen 
Down jaded avenues of old Cathay. 

XVI. 

The rudest music heard thro' sleep is fine 
Beyond the reach of art or instruments; 
With tunefulest high magic I have crost 
Over the violet edge of lands divine, 
And lifting many jewel'd trophies thence 
I wake with joy — but waking they are lost 
Along the dim dream-tangled border line. 

XVII. 

A wind-swept common far from streets and towers 

I found to-day with thistles overrun ; 

The year is on the turn, the summer yields, 

The waning season all the air endowers 

With the deeper gold of our September sun, 

Reluctant yet to leave the long-loved fields, 

Now mauve and blue with elvish autumn flowers. 



196 IN AMBER LANDS 

XVIII. 

For me what remnant fate remains in store? 

What dull or useless ending will be mine? 

I count these days detach'd, this work unplaced, 

I know the best of me has gone before, 

And all that youth once promis'd I resign; 

But lone on that allegiant floral waste 

I bared my head to Beauty evermore. 

XIX. 

And still she comes to me, tho' I be old, 
Living in cover'd ways and namelessly; 
And still her fields of amaranth await, 
And glorious across the manifold 
Dim valleys of the dead exalt I see 
Her azure gardens gleaming, and the great 
Marble towers of morning tipt with gold. 



IN AMBER LANDS 197 



CONTENT. 

But God stays — tho' all else fail and fall ! 
He seems sometimes a Playfellow of mine 
Who winks at me and laughs — sometimes a fine 

Red Flame to gloriously destroy : a Call 

To bring green Worlds again : immemoral 
A Mood that wakes in me : an Anodyne 
To soothe me unto Death : a Sound divine : 

A dim enamoured Silence under all. 

Amid the jar of things, and in wrong ways, 
I hurt myself continually, and yet 
Withal I stand, and with fixt eyes forget 

The bitter unfulfilment of my days. 
And feel my way to Him, content to let 

All else between my fingers slip — God stays! 



98 IN AMBER LANDS 



THE TOMB. 

And he is dead at last ! O long ago — 

So long ago it is since yesterday ! 

The World hath sunken round me, old and gray, 
To sound of endless litanies of woe : — 
Dear God, if I could know — could only know 

Beyond the creeds and feeble prayers they say 

That I might find him yet in some sure way — 
How I would laugh against this Tomb below ! 

I've lost the meaning of the words he said 
To ease my heart before he pass'd from me: 
I walk the ruin'd Earth in agony, 

And cry unto the Waste uncomforted : 
Across the blacken VI Skies I start to see 

His name writ flamingly — but he is dead! 



IN AMBER LANDS 199 



THE LAST SONG. 

I. 

Lone, Heart, lone! 

And the Gates are barr'd above ! 
O Heart with my Heart alone ! 
Love! 

II. 
Cease, Heart, cease! 

For the last red embers gleam! 
O Heart from thy sorrow cease ! 
Dream ! 

III. 
Still, Heart, still ! 

God's night is round us deep ! 
O Heart to my Heart lie still ! 
Sleep ' 



:oo IN AMBER LANDS 



NOTES. 



"Triple golden years."— (Third stanza, fifth line.) — The 
Klondike gold-rush, the greatest in history, took place from 
1S97 to 1900, during which period the Canadian North yielded 
about one hundred million dollars in placer gold. 

"On a lay." — (Sixth stanza, first line.) — A phrase originat- 
ing perhaps with the sealers of Behring Sea, with whom it 
meant an allowance, in lieu of wages, of a certain percentage 
of the value of seal-skins secured by the hunters. In mining 
parlance, to "work a claim on a lay" meant to have an agreed 
percentage of the clean-up or output. 

"I mush'd along." — (Ninth stanza, fifth line.) — Mush- 
mush on — corruption of French- Canadian "marchons," — the 
traveling word for men and dogs throughout the Canadian 
North and Alaska. 

"Sourdoagh." — (Twenty-first stanza, second line.) — Early 
prospectors in mining regions of the Far West carried with 
them a lump of sonr-dough, in lieu of yeast, for making camp- 
bread, and were dubbed "sourdoughs." In the Yukon, how- 
ever, the term was generally applied to those who had spent 
an entire winter in that region during the first years of the 
gold-rush. 

"Mac an Diaoul — Beishta-Mor." — (Thirty- sixth stanza, third 
line.)— Gaelic, meaning "The offspring of Satan— the Great 
Beast." 



THE DAMOZEL OF DOOM. 



"The peace of a thousand years." 
"The Abbot gave me much instruction in matters of re- 
ligion. One day, in a discourse on fundamental virtue, which 
I found difficult, he touched at some length on the nature and 



IN AMBER LANDS 201 



conditions of Hell. And I remember, in describing those 
regions of Hell which underlie the Paradise of the West, he 
stated, incidentally, that souls are only loosed therefrom by 
exhaustion of the livid, lurid or dark emotions that keep them 
there — by that, and the re-awakening of desires. By some of 
these desires the souls are drawn outward to Earth again, 
while through others, more subtle and fine, they pass into the 
Paradise of the West as naturally as a butterfly rises from 
the chrysalis. But having attained this state, and feeling su- 
preme relief from recent pain and horror, they are prone to 
remain inactive, become lethargic, and are soon overcome by 
the delicious atmosphere of the place. And thus they lie 
peacefully intoxicated for a thousand years. Then their lives 
end. But the root essence of them all, I was told, is drawn 
upon again by influences ever seeking occasion for incarnation. 
And so, in Limbo, awaiting the birth conditioned by their 
divers natures, they and all manner of planetary life remain 
in suspense, like to the clouds in the sky, which await oppor- 
tunity for return to Earth in endless drops of rain." — The 
Teaching of Tao. 



"FEY." 

Fey: literally "On the way," "Death-bound." A Saxon 
word denoting a Celtic mood. One who not only realizes him- 
self on the inevitable way, tut through some unusual experi- 
ence in some instant of Time, has wakened to an alien, in- 
explicable Existence that leaves him bewildered, foolishly 
indifferent, madly impersonal, to the concerns of Life. To 
the Highlander the full meaning of the term is not expressed 
in either of the following passages, but it lurks between them: 

"The Scotch peasants have a word that might be applied to 
every existence. In their legends they give 'Fey' to the frame 
of mind of a man who, notwithstanding all his efforts, not- 
withstanding all help and advice, is forced by some irresistible 
impulse toward some inevitable catastrophe. It is thus that 
James I — the James of Catherine Douglas — was 'fey' when he 
went, notwithstanding the terrible omens of earth, heaven and 
hell, to spend the Christmas holidays in the gloomy castle of 
Perth, where his assassin, the traitor Robert Graeme, lay in 
wait for him." — Maurice Maeterlinck. 

"A mermaid had once met a piper on Sandag beach, and 



202 IN AMBER LANDS 



there sang to him a long, bright midsummer's night, so that in 
the morning he was found stricken crazy, and from thencefor- 
ward, till the day he died, said only one form of words ; what 
they were in the original Gaelic I cannot tell, but they were 
thus translated : 'Ah ! the sweet singing out of the sea !' " — 
Robert Louis Stevenson. 



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